Sex, Blood and Rock n' Roll
by Gwyddion
Summary: The saga of Garrett Rainbird, a Pumonca Bastet. I have been inspired to start writing again! R&R plz.
1. Early life and the first change

**_Disclaimer: Werewolf: The Apocalypse, Vampire: The Masquerade and all other related gaming systems are owned by White Wolf Inc. The character Garrett Rainbird is owned by me. This story is based off a campaign that my friends and I enjoyed while killing time in Iraq 2003-2004. Hats off to James Doubrley, an incredibly talented GM for providing the scenarios our characters found themselves in. _**

**_Enjoy!_**

**Sex, Blood and Rock n' Roll**

_The Saga of Garrett Rainbird_

**Chapter One: Early life and the first change**

It was a normal childhood or at least as close to normal as it could be, growing up right outside the Okee Fenokee Swamp in northern Florida.

But unlike most unchanged shifters, Garrett Rainbird wasn't a loner or an outsider in the group; he was always involved with whatever his small family was doing.

His mother died while giving birth, so he didn't know too much about her. His father, Joseph and sister, Lorie were all the family he had.

Joseph was a game warden and enforced hunting and fishing regulations in the swamp and the outlying areas. He was also a full-blooded Seminole medicine man and taught his son the ways of the shaman from an early age.

Lorie, six years older than Garrett, was fast following in their father's foot steps. She was very passionate about wildlife conservation and figured that becoming a game warden would be the most effective way for her to make a difference.

He believed in the cause of protecting the wildlife and all, but Garrett's passion first and foremost was music. And from a young age, it was known.

Garrett got his first guitar at age 6 and took to it like a duck to water. He played the blues and rock and roll like a child possessed. His dream was to become a professional musician, selling out stadiums and playing for screaming fans.

Garrett continued to excel with music and with attuning himself to the spirit world. He used the primal calling in his dreams and meditations to weave songs almost magical in nature. He sang blues of the dying Earth and her tears reflected in his voice. They knew he would go far some day.

Then, close to his eighteenth birthday, everything changed.

* * *

They were all sitting around the house one night, listening to Garrett play. Joseph got a call: the report said there was a small group of men hunting out of season not far from where they were sitting. He set out to find them and investigate. Garrett and Lorie, not wanting to get left behind, went with him. 

They went into the woods, searching for the men. The only weapon between them was an old .45 pistol that Joseph was issued by the Department of Fish and Wildlife.

A light flickered faintly in the distance, mostly obscured by trees and vegetation. Upon closer examination, they found it was a camp fire in a clearing. Five men were huddled around it. It wasn't hard to tell they were drunk. For the moment, they hadn't noticed the trio observing them.

Lying on the ground near the fire was their haul for the day. They had killed a Florida panther, a species on the verge of extinction, as well as a few whitetail deer, which were out of season.

Joseph saw this, motioned to Garrett and Lorie to stay back and stepped into the clearing. The men were clearly alarmed when he announced his presence.

"I see you boys had a hunt today," he said, trying to remain calm. There were too many of them. He should have gotten back-up. "What you did ain't legal and I'm taking you boys in for shooting deer out of season, not to mention that panther, which is gonna land you some major jail time."

The men now looked scared. One was holding a rifle. Joseph went to draw his .45, but as his hand touched the holster, a shot rang out in the woods.

Garrett and Lorie watched in horror as their father fell to the ground, missing a good portion of his head.

Lorie froze, terrified. Her breathing was escaping in short gasps. She appeared to be going into shock. Garrett, trying to keep his wits about him, thought to make a move for his father's pistol. At that moment, his vision went black as he fell to the ground. There was one last member of the hunting party who had gone out to get some firewood and heard the shot. In a panic after seeing the game warden dead, he had hit Garrett in the back of the head with a rather thick log.

* * *

Garrett awoke with a dull throbbing pain in his head. He could hear muffled screams of fear and pain. He got to his feet and looked into the direction of the screams. 

As his vision cleared, he saw what was happening and froze.

They were gathered around Lorie. Two of them were holding her arms, while another was on top of her, holding a hand over her mouth. Her clothes had been ripped almost completely off. The others appeared to be waiting their turn.

Something inside Garrett's mind snapped.

Every muscle in his body seemed to tense to the breaking point. His fists clinched so tight that the fingernails drew blood in his palms.

His vision went red as his body started to contort.

Intense pain shot through his body as muscles tore then expanded and bones broke, only to immediately reset themselves. Though the pain was nearly unbearable, Garrett didn't make a sound. His eyes were still on the hunters, not seeing them, but knowing they were there.

He grew in size to stand over eight feet tall. His clothes ripped away from his body. Claws burst forth from the ends of his fingers and thick fur sprouted from his skin. Fangs grew in his contorting mouth and his face took on the appearance of a mountain lion.

Garrett's rational thought process had ceased; instinct was now running the show. With a loud and thunderous roar, he pounced.

The men, occupied with Lorie, didn't notice the hulking creature until the roar rushed into their ears. They turned to see death coming down on top of them.

It was now their turn to scream.

The beast that was Garrett Rainbird only moments ago tore through the men with horrid efficiency. In less than thirty seconds, he had dispatched them all with tooth and claw.

After ripping the last man to pieces, Garrett slowly regained control of his own body as it was again twisted and contorted, reverting to his human form.

The smell of blood was thick in the air and his naked body was covered in it from head to toe. He fell to his knees and vomited. There also, was blood.

He surveyed the carnage and saw his sister. He ran to her side and knelt down beside her. She wasn't breathing. He tried to resuscitate her to no avail. He cradled her in his arms and wept for what seemed like an eternity.

He then buried his sister and father at the base of an old gnarled tree by the clearing. For the hunters, he dug a hole and tossed in all the larger pieces of them, leaving the rest for the animals.

It was after finishing this task that fear suddenly struck him. What would happen to him? People would ask too many questions … they would want to know how it happened … they might find out …

He realized what he had to do.

Garrett ran back to his house as fast as his legs would allow. He gathered up a few changes of clothes, some food and packed it in a bag. He scoured the house for any and all money that might be present and gathered it too. Before leaving that house for the last time, he got one more item: his guitar.

As he stepped outside, he locked the door to the house. He guessed that it was probably unnecessary, but might look fishy if it was unlocked.

There was a shape in the driveway with a blue tarp draped over it. Garrett walked to it and pulled the tarp away. There was his father's pet project for the last three years. It was a 1979 Harley Davidson motorcycle. It wasn't the prettiest thing in the world to look at, but it had no problems running.

Garrett packed all his things in the two saddlebags, strapped the guitar on the bike and sped out of his old life. He rode for hours, trying to put as much distance as possible between him and what was up until a few hours ago, his home. He didn't know where he was going and didn't care.

He was just going.


	2. Learning the ropes

**Chapter Two: Learning**

At first light, Garrett pulled off the main road into a large patch of woods. He concealed the bike with branches and leaf litter, and bedded down for the night. His dreams were plagued with thoughts of the change and the horror that ensued, so he didn't sleep well.

The next morning, after eating some of the meager food provisions he brought with him, he set out into the wilderness to learn more about what he had become.

Days passed as he meditated, conversed with spirits and delved into his own soul. After a little practice, he rediscovered his crinos form, as well as his feline form. He found his senses had expanded, both physical and spiritual. He also discovered the spirits were easier to communicate with than they were before the change. They just seemed to notice him more now.

The next week was spent running. By the time he made it to South Carolina, his money supply had started to run low. He needed money to keep gas in the bike and keep moving. Food wasn't as much of an issue because he could hunt as a mountain lion now if need be.

To keep gas in the bike and clothes on his back, Garrett did what he knew best: he played music. Any bar he came across, he would present himself to the owner and see if he could earn a few bucks. After a few breaks, he began to get into the swing of things, seeing what the crowds liked and how to sweet-talk the club owners into letting him play a set or two for a small fee.

Then, at a bar outside Asheville, North Carolina, his life once again changed.

It was a hole in the wall, not far from the Interstate, called Randall's. It had the look of a rowdy joint, but the locals seemed laid back enough.

As he played that night, he noticed a figure in the back, eyeing him intently. The figure never moved from the back corner, and Garrett couldn't see his face, but he knew the man was watching him. As his set went on, he began to grow nervous, wondering if the man was with the police. When he finished the set, he went to get his pay and get out of there as quickly as he could.

When he went outside, the man was sitting on his bike.

"Nice set of wheels you have here," the man said, looking up at Garrett. He appeared to be in his late twenties and was dressed moderately. He was a severe looking man, with piercing eyes that made Garrett uneasy. His long dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and he sported a piercing in his eyebrow.

"I'd appreciate it if you got off my bike," Garrett said. "And I'd like to know what the hell you want with me."

"And cut to the chase, yes," the man said, not batting an eye. "Look kid, you and me, we need to have ourselves a long talk."

Garrett took a step back. "Are you with the cops?"

The man let out a small laugh. "No, I'm not a cop," he said as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. "But I do know why you have been running for almost a month now. I have a good idea what happened and I know what you are, though I'm guessing you don't."

"What do you want with me?"

The man took a long drag off his cigarette, tossed it down and looked up at Garrett, "You've got a lot to learn kid," he said. "And I'm the one that's going to teach you."

The man got off Garrett's bike and extended his hand. "I'm Victor, Victor Crane."

Garrett shook his hand. "I'd introduce myself, but it seems you already know who I am."

Victor turned and walked toward an old red Chevy truck. He looked back as he opened the door.

"Just follow me and I'll answer all your questions," he said as he climbed in.

Intrigued, Garrett strapped his guitar to the bike, started the engine and drove off after the truck.

He followed Victor off the main highway and into the Carolina mountains. After twisting and turning down a few roads that were barely more than rough paths, they came to a stop at what appeared to be a campsite. Victor got out of the truck and walked to the unlit campfire. He bent down with some kindling and got it burning.

Garrett took a seat on the other side of the fire, waited for Victor to finish with it, and spoke.

"You say that you know what I am," Garrett said. "So what am I?"

Victor sat down and let out a long breath. "Okay," he said. "We are Bastet, or if you want to use layman's terms, a werecat. You are a Pumonca, a werecougar. I am a Bagheera, a werepanther."

Garrett took this in, realizing that the man spoke the truth. "Okay, I sort of understand what you're saying. So how did I get like this?"

Victor smiled. "You were born this way, kid. The legends you hear about werewolves, while they do in fact exist … isn't some contagious disease you get from being bitten. It's passed down from parent to child, sometimes skipping many generations," he paused. "A traumatic event will usually bring out the beast for the first time. You go into a blind rage and most often kill everybody around you. Then if you're lucky, you live long enough for someone to find you and teach you about the world as it really is and how you play into it."

Garrett's mind raced back to the night it happened. God, it was horrible. So much blood …

"Hey, pay attention."

Garrett snapped back to reality and focused on the conversation.

After a few hours, Garrett learned about the history behind his people and the other changing breeds, Gaia and the fight against the Wyrm. He also learned that there were other beings out there as well, including vampires. This was a hard pill to swallow, but he believed Victor's words.

The fire began to die down when Victor drew the conversation to a close.

"Get some sleep," he said as he lay down for the night, "Tomorrow, I'll show you a thing or two."


	3. Ambush in the dark

**Chapter Three: Ambush in the dark**

Over the next two months, Garrett was taught the ways of the Gaian shapeshifter. He discovered his Sokto and Chatro forms as well as how to use them effectively. Victor was astonished that Garrett could shift forms with minimal effort; he even shifted in his sleep once.

The process still presented a problem with clothing. Victor's only advice was to carry around extra clothes if the situation allowed.

Over that month, Garrett also learned about the enemies he would no doubt face in the future. He began to understand his place in the world and accepted it.

He was taught a few gifts to help him along the way. One was to sense Wyrm taint in a person or place and the other was to lick wounds in one of his feline forms to heal them. He also impressed Victor by being able to converse with spirits and understand them, not unlike a Garou theurge.

At the end of the second month, it was time for Garrett to get his hands dirty.

* * *

Victor had discovered a location about a week back, which contained a significant amount of Wyrm taint. It was a singlewide trailer in a fairly secluded area. It housed one man and his wife and children. It also housed a lab that produced an insidious form of methamphetamine. It appeared to be a small part of a drug syndicate, but at that point, no clear kingpin had been identified. At the moment it didn't matter; the man and his lab were marked for death.

And after nightfall, they made their move to exact Gaia's vengeance.

They stopped just inside the tree line where Victor dropped a small knapsack. Garrett looked at him confused, but he only winked.

They slipped into the yard under cover of darkness. In a coordinated effort, they moved up to either side of the house to check for any surprises. There appeared to be none, so they prepared to make an entrance. The two shifted to their Sokto forms; anything larger would have been too much for the floor of the ramshackle trailer. Victor armed himself with two large Kukri blades; Garrett had only his father's .45.

The two Bastet hit the back door like a SWAT team, completely breaking it off its hinges and sending it crashing into the adjacent wall. They moved in quickly, clearing the kitchen. The smell of Wyrm was thick in the air or at least it was to noses trained to recognize it. It was the first time Garrett's nostrils had come into contact with it. The putrid aroma was almost enough to send him to his knees, but he fought the urge and persevered.

A mother and her two children cowered on the couch in the tiny living room.

"Where is he?" Victor asked curtly.

The smallest of the children raised a tiny bruised arm, pointing to the back bedroom. He might have been three years old. He was dressed in clothes that more closely resembled rags and had many small cuts and bruises.

Victor turned his attention to the mother for a brief instant, who looked even worse than the children.

"Get your kids, get out of here, run and don't turn back," he said as he slowly moved to the door of the back bedroom.

The mother gathered up her children and moved as quickly as she could past Garrett and out the back door.

Garrett moved up to where Victor had positioned himself and chambered a round.

"Are you ready?" Victor asked over his shoulder.

As he spoke, the door in front of them practically exploded. Wooden shards filled the air, striking both of them at various points of their body. A man was standing in the doorway. His eyes gave a wide unblinking stare. A twitchy smile formed on his lips. He gave out a gurgled hiss and leapt forward into the light of the room.

The man wasn't human anymore. He had been possessed by a bane spirit. He was now a fomor.

His tattered shirt revealed large boils over most of his exposed skin. His gaping mouth revealed row upon row of needle-like teeth. His eyes had taken on reptilian features with a thick membrane over each one. His eyelids were gone.

Before he could think twice, Garrett fired a shot. The .45 bullet tore through the creature's shoulder, sending out a spray of viscous fluid. It sizzled and burned anything it came into contact with. The creature shrieked in pain and lunged at Garrett.

"Break left!" Victor shouted as one of his blades arced downward, lopping off the fomor's head in one clean stroke. Once again, liquid sprayed and poured from the wound, narrowly missing Garrett, but coming into contact with Victor's hand and arm. It hit the ground and convulsed for a few seconds before lying still.

Victor winced in pain as the liquid burned his flesh, melting the handle of the knife to his hand. It was Garrett's turn to wince as he watched Victor rip the knife out of his wounded hand. He inspected it briefly before tossing it on the ground.

"Blade's melted. No use to me now," he said as he moved toward the doorway.

They went through the doorway and found what they were looking for: a meth lab with an insidious twist. Not only were the poor saps taking these drugs killing themselves, but they were corrupting themselves with bane energy as well. This could very easily produce a small Army of fomori, given enough time.

"Okay, what now?" Garrett asked, surveying the lab.

"We get out of here and then we blow this place back to Malfeas," Victor said with a slight smile.

Garrett nodded and they slipped out much more quietly than they entered. After reaching a safe distance from the house, Victor pulled a flare gun from his knapsack left just inside the tree line and fired a round through a window in the makeshift lab. The trailer left the ground as it exploded into red and green flame.

Satisfied, they left the scene and headed back to the campsite in feline form to expedite their progress.

As they traveled on, Garrett began to feel as if they were being followed. Something wasn't right and he tensed for a possible ambush. Apparently, Victor had the same uneasiness about him and they stopped in a clearing by a stream.

Victor sniffed the air and grew silent. The hair on his back bristled as he shifted up to Chatro. Garrett followed suit, shifting up to crinos. They scanned the area around them for possible threats.

"Bad kitties," a raspy voice murmured from the trees. "Fucked up our candy, but we make sure they get fucked up, won't we?"

Several voices chattered and hissed all around them. From the sound there might be almost a dozen of them. At any rate, they were surrounded. Victor and Garrett stood back to back, waiting for the first move.

"We teach everyone not to mess with us … the kitties, and the doggies," the voice continued as a lone figure dropped into the clearing. It was a lanky male fomor with abnormally long arms and hands, which ended in long, razor-like claws. He stared down the two Bastet and let out a cackle of laughter.

At once, a pack of fomori descended on them from all directions. There were at least a dozen of them, maybe more, it was hard to tell. They were all freakishly deformed, some with extra appendages, one with an extra head. The pack closed in quickly, hoping to overwhelm the two Bastet with sheer numbers.

Victor and Garrett braced themselves for the attack. Garrett raced toward the creature who appeared to be the leader, the one who had spoken. He jumped to the side with minimal effort as he plunged into the water. Two fomor jumped in his path and blocked Garrett's pursuit. They lunged at him to no avail as he jumped back out of their range. His claws ripped into them as he made an outward swipe with both arms, sending one flying in either direction. The one on the left struck a tree and lay still while the other's fall was broken by one of his comrades, taking them both out of the fight momentarily. As Garrett moved in on the fomor in the water, he disappeared before his eyes.

Victor let out a roar of pain. Though he had already dispatched four of his attackers, there were still six on top of him, clawing and biting. He was holding his own, but there were too many to keep up with. Blood was pouring from many wounds on his legs and back. He shook one off his back and swatted it, tearing the creature nearly in half. Another saw its opening and moved in quickly, slashing Victors neck with a vicious swipe of its claws. A roar turned into a garbled scream as the claws rent his flesh. Blood gushed from the wound as Victor struggled to stay on his feet.

In horror, Garrett saw what was happening. As he tried to close the distance between him and his comrade, two clawed hands reached out of the stream, grabbed hold of him and pulled him down into the water.

The world around him changed. He was now in the Umbra, the spirit world, though he didn't know it.

Garrett struggled against the hands that held his feet, and turned around to see the fomor that had vanished from his sight. Channeling his rage, Garrett released himself from the grip and tore into the fomor. It screamed in pain as his claws raked into his putrid flesh and answered with a slash into the Pumonca's midsection. The two combatants jumped away from each other and paused, each waiting on the other to make the first move.

Garrett didn't have time for a Mexican stand off. He lunged forward, claws and teeth bared. The fomor ducked, raking his claws down Garrett's legs as he passed over. Garrett tumbled along the ground, the wounds in his abdomen and legs burning as if they were on fire. Before he could get to his feet, the fomor was on top of him. The two wrestled for an advantage, but neither could achieve it. Garrett finally gained the upper hand, vaulting the fomor into the air with his feet. As the creature hit the ground, Garrett was on his feet and moving. The fomor struggled to its feet just as the Bastet bared down upon it. His claws found purchase in the Wyrm creature's throat, ripping it open with such intensity, that its head nearly came off.

Garrett stood over the dead fomor, exhausted. He turned toward Victor, but could not see him. The area where the fighting had taken place appeared to be an empty clearing, but changed somehow.

"Pathetic … just what I'd expect from a cat," a male voice behind him said.

Garrett wheeled around to see a large gray werewolf. He stood over nine feet tall with what looked for all the world like war paint on his face and chest. He was also carrying a very large double-bladed axe.

"You took too long," he said. "It was just one fomor."

"Who are you?" Garrett asked. "And why does everything look so weird?"

"You're in the Umbra, stupid," the werewolf said. "And I'm not telling you shit else until you tell me who you are and why you're here."

Garrett identified himself and explained why he and Victor were there. The werewolf identified himself as Biting Steel, a Get of Fenris theurge.

The theurge parted the veil and allowed Garrett to pass into the material world again. The ground was littered with the bodies of dead fomori. On the ground at the other side of the clearing was another body, one that wasn't tainted and deformed by bane energy. It was Victor.

There was no mistaking. He was dead.

Biting Steel surveyed the area briefly.

"You should go now," he said.

Garrett looked up at the Garou and anger flashed across his face. "I'm gonna get those bastards for what they did."

"No, you're not," the theurge said. "This is my pack's fight. This is our turf, our responsibility."

Biting Steel placed a hand on Garrett's shoulder. "Rest assured, your friend will be avenged, but my pack will not welcome your presence here. Go."

Downtrodden, Garrett left the scene after burying his mentor and friend. He walked back to the campsite in crinos form, hoping there would be more fomori to vent his frustrations and grief on, but none appeared.

He packed up his things and moved on.

He was alone again.


	4. The kindred persuasion

**Chapter Four: The kindred persuasion**

Garrett slowly made his northwest, stopping to play in bars to keep him going.

In a large patch of wilderness in Kentucky, he made camp and attempted to enter the Umbra. He had done it before, now he would try again.

He camped out on a lake and concentrated on his reflection in the water. After achieving a state of mental calm, he reached into the water. To his surprise, it worked as he passed through the veil. The world took on a surreal sheen. He stood up and looked around.

There were a few spirits here and there, milling around the places they inhabited. Garret merely stood and watched them for awhile, marveling at the intricacy of it all. Everything in the physical world was represented in the Umbra and governed by a spirit. He began to wonder what his father would think if he could see this.

Hmm, how long has it been now, he thought to himself. It was long enough gone to be behind him now, but it was close enough to prey on his mind.

After a few hours and a few conversations, Garrett figured out how to part the veil between the worlds and return to the material plane. It wasn't as hard as he had previously thought. After a few days in solitude, he packed up and rode out.

Garrett ventured on through Ohio and Indiana. When he reached the city of Indianapolis, he decided it was time to showcase his talent again.

He rode around the city, his long black hair flowing in the light breeze, checking out the sights. The famous racetrack and tourist traps didn't interest him though; he was looking for places where he could make a buck or two. Since it was a fairly large city, he could hang out for a few days and play a few different places if his luck didn't run out.

It didn't take him long to find a promising venue. The neon sign labeled the place as the Club Spectrum and it advertised something for everyone. Satisfied, Garrett parked his bike out front and walked in the door, guitar case in hand.

Inside, the building appeared cavernous, magnified by its emptiness. Since it was still around 2 p.m., this wasn't much of a surprise. He asked around for the manager and discussed a gig after finding him. The manager explained that the owner made all decisions concerning musical talent and would be in sometime after dark. It looked fairly promising, so Garrett sat down and waited for the sun to go down.

As the sun sank low in the horizon, the place started to fill up. People from all walks of life showed up to share a drink and have a good time. The manager showed back up at Garrett's table about an hour after sundown and introduced him to the night manager. The man had a strange air about him, though he could not figure out why.

He was led up a set of stairs in the back of the building that had previously gone unnoticed. They came to a door and the man stopped.

"Mr. Witherow will see you now," the man said with a hint of arrogance as he opened the door. Garrett ignored it and stepped inside.

The office within was expansive and very tastefully decorated with expensive looking furniture. Garrett could see a man in the chair behind the desk facing away, staring out the window.

"Would you please sit down," the man said, not turning around.

Garrett did as he was told, taking a seat in front of the massive stone desk. Suddenly, his senses picked up a scent of corruption. Though it troubled him, he kept it to himself.

The man in the chair turned from the window toward Garrett. He appeared to be in his late twenties, his hair and suit both immaculate and tasteful. His expression was cheerful, but his complexion was pale, almost unhealthy. He took one look at Garrett and suddenly grew very uncomfortable. After a moment, he relaxed and spoke.

"The first question I usually ask people who want to play at my club is what they can offer in the form of entertainment, but that is not my first question for you," he said, sounding stern.

Garrett looked puzzled. "Then, what is the question?"

The man returned the look of confusion and spoke again. "My question for you, shifter, is what are you doing in my club and what are you trying to prove by being here?"

Garrett thought for a moment and replied. "Ah," he said as the light bulb came on in his head, "you must be a vampire. I've heard of your kind, but have never actually met one. My answer to you is simple: I came here looking for a gig, to entertain and possibly to earn a few bucks doing it. I'm not trying to prove anything and it is not my intention to cause trouble."

Garrett began to grow nervous. He soon realized they were not alone in the room. His eyes shifted left to right and realized two laser sights were trained on either side of his head. He hadn't even seen the gunmen when he walked into the room and couldn't see them now. He grew still. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. What had he gotten himself into?

"You now realize the consequence of your actions should you decide to do anything rash?" The kindred behind the desk asked, a smile widening on his pencil thin lips.

"I do," Garrett replied. "But I stand by what I said earlier. I'm just here to get a gig. I don't really give a shit about feuds and rivalries. I don't bother anyone who doesn't bother me."

"You give your word? Because you realize if you aren't being honest with me, I'll have your head vaporized." He snapped his fingers lightly. "Just like that …"

"My word is my bond," Garrett replied, growing more confident.

The vampire appeared intrigued and paused for a moment. Then he stood up. "Please excuse my manners," he said, extending his hand. "My name is Spencer, Spencer Witherow."

Garrett returned the hand shake and introduced himself. The two sat back down.

"So, you're not a werewolf are you?" Spencer asked. "Because all the werewolves I have ever seen aren't much more than mindless killing machines. They try to kill us on sight, you know. We have a habit of doing the same."

"No," Garrett said. "As a matter of fact, I am Bastet, a puma to be more specific."

Spencer thought on this for a moment and then continued with the conversation. "Well, Mr. Rainbird, let's see what you can offer my club."

Garrett nodded and opened up his case. He pulled out his guitar and gave it a quick tune. Then he strummed into one of his songs, a deep, churning melody about life on the road. After finishing, he stopped and looked up at the vampire.

"That was good," he said. "Let me hear another."

Garrett complied and broke off into another tune, this one a song with a driving rhythm about the Mother Goddess. His music evoked energy from the air around him which surrounded him in an invisible whirlwind as he played and sang. When he finished, he sat the guitar down and spoke. "So, what do you think?"

"Do you have enough material to encompass two full sets?"

Garrett nodded.

Spencer smiled and said, "I think you just landed yourself a gig, Mr. Rainbird, but there is one catch. You seem like a nice guy and not out on some clandestine mission or anything, but just in case, there will be other kindred or vampires if you will, at the club when you play. If you try anything fishy or shift or start anything in my club, trust that you will have a slow, agonizing death as compared to the quick, painless one you just managed to avoid."

Garrett smiled. "I guess that's fair enough. So when do I play?"

"Well, it's a little late for tonight," Spencer said. "I'll put you on the third floor for tomorrow night. Be here at 7 p.m. sharp to get set up. You'll go on at eight o'clock."

He thanked Spencer for the job and excused himself from the office. Thankfully, his unseen guards had lowered their sights, sparing him for the time being. He decided to head up to the third floor to check it out. He wanted to see what kind of talent was there now and get a feel for the crowd. This would help him decide what to play.

The third floor club was laid out with ambience in mind. There was a small stage in the corner for a musician or someone reading poetry and a bar tucked away on the adjacent wall. Everywhere else, there were tables and chairs. No dance floor, no disco ball, just tables and chairs.

He found a table near the stage and ordered a drink. Tonight's talent hadn't taken the stage yet, so he kicked back and relaxed. The room was sparsely filled here and there with younger men and women, mostly in their twenties from the look of it. Aside from the regular people, there were also a few vampires in the room, most of which had either given or were still giving Garrett a weird look. He returned their glances, gave a slight shrug of his shoulders and continued to sit, occasionally sipping his coke, since his charm had failed to get him a beer.

At around 8 p.m., the talent for the night stepped onto the stage. He was a spindly looking young man with an unkempt mop of dirty blonde hair. He pulled up a stool, plugged in his acoustic/electric guitar and commenced to play. He was okay, but nothing to write home about, Garrett thought. He continued to sip his drink and listen, contented for the moment.

After the kid on stage got about halfway through his set, a vampire took a seat at Garrett's table.

"So, what do you think about the guy on stage?" he asked. He appeared to be in his early to mid twenties with ice blue eyes and light blonde hair. He was dressed head to toe in black, which accentuated his light features.

Garrett looked over at the man at his table. "He's not terrible, but his material could use a little work."

The vampire smiled. "A kind review, no doubt." He looked over at Garrett. "Perhaps it was a little too kind?"

Garrett smiled back at the vampire. "Okay, you got me. This guy pretty much sucks." He said that just in time to hear the kid miss a chord and fill the room with dissonance for a moment before righting himself. The two shared a laugh.

"Let me introduce myself," the vampire said. "I'm Daniel Spinner of the clan Toreador."

"Garrett Rainbird of the tribe Pumonca," he said as he shook Daniel's hand.

Spinner hesitated for a moment, appearing startled by Garrett's apathetic admission of his true nature. He looked at the shifter sitting beside him and spoke. "You know, there are quite a few people in here who are wondering why you're not already dead."

Garrett replied. "I'm not here to start trouble. I just came looking for a gig. Once I was able to make that point clear to Mr. Witherow and convince him that I meant what I said, he gave me one, tomorrow night."

Daniel laughed. "A shifter starting trouble in a kindred establishment would have swift and fatal consequences. But listen: I know a place a few blocks over where we can listen to some real music. You could play there tonight. It's an open mic thing."

"Sounds like an idea," Garrett said. "I'd like to get out and play a little."

"Splendid," Daniel said. "You have your own wheels?"

Garrett nodded. "I'll follow you out there."

"You're not going to kill me as soon as we leave here are you?" the vampire asked, making a nervous joke.

"Not hardly."

The vampire and the Bastet made their way out of the club and over to an all-night coffee shop called the Red Bean. Daniel told Garrett the place was owned by a man named Freddie Larkin, a Malkavian with a real thing for coffee. Not knowing what he was talking about, Garrett just smiled and nodded.

Daniel stopped him at the door and explained that he would go in first and let them know about Garrett, so no one would react in a hostile manner. After a few minutes, he came back out and motioned for Garrett to come inside.

"I told them you were cool, so do me a favor and just be cool," Daniel said. "There are a few folks in here that would just as soon kill you as look at you, so just try not to start any fights. You give them the slightest hint of an excuse and your head will roll out the door, most likely not attached to your shoulders."

Garrett nodded and they entered the building.

Walking through the front doors revealed a dark smoky main area, not befitting a normal coffee house. It looked more like a jazz club. A stage was situated on the back wall with one blue spot light illuminating it. Other than candles on the tables and at the bar, this was the only light in the room. There was a slender young woman on stage, babbling off random bits of poetry, talking about how the modern age was coming to an end. Her frazzled pink hair was in corn row braids. She looked stoned on something.

The two found a table near the stage and sat down. Garrett ordered an espresso and settled in, refusing to let about a dozen hostile glances faze him. After the woman stepped down from the stage to a handful of applause, Garrett got ready to play. If he couldn't win them over with music then he wasn't going to win them over at all, he thought as he slung his guitar over his shoulder and basked in the dull blue glow, adjusting the microphones.

Before he started playing, Garrett introduced himself and addressed the crowd. "Let me just say this," he said. "I don't care about what you are, so don't care about what I am. We're all here to have a good time, so let's do just that."

Having said his piece, he tore off into some old delta blues, projecting the souls of the destitute and downtrodden. He went on to bring a lighter note, playing songs from his own repartee. All in all, he played for over half an hour. The first few songs brought sparse, hesitant applause, but by the time he stepped off the stage, majority of the crowd was eating out of his hand.

There were still a few sour faces in the crowd, but some was better than all.

He put up his guitar and took a seat again with Daniel. He looked over at him in the darkness.

"So, how was that?" Garrett asked, "Better than that guy over at the Spectrum?"

Daniel chuckled. "Do you even have to ask?"

The stage remained empty for a few minutes while the patrons chatted amongst themselves and sipped coffee … well … some of them were sipping coffee.

Then she appeared. Garrett couldn't help but stare as she stood up from a table in the back. He could hardly even see her in the darkness, but he couldn't help but keep his eyes locked on her. When she stepped onto the stage and in the blue light, Garrett got his first good look at her. She wore a white evening gown that tapered at her knees. Her long brown hair shimmered in the sparse light and her gray eyes pierced the darkness, right through his. She was Aphrodite on the stage, a vision of near perfect beauty.

Garrett came out of the trance long enough to ask Daniel who she was. He told him that her name was Katarina VanDressel, but more he did not know.

Then she opened her mouth and started to sing. Garrett was awestruck, for the moment not able to believe that such a sound could come from a human voice. Then he realized it wasn't a human voice, but a vampire's. She sang the song in Italian, and even though Garrett could not understand her words, he came to the verge of tears from the heart-breaking melody.

She closed the song to thunderous applause, overshadowing all other acts that evening. She sauntered off the stage and made her way gracefully to Garrett's table.

"Do you mind if I sit down?" she asked with an accent that couldn't be placed. Garrett turned toward Daniel to make sure she wasn't talking to him, but he was gone.

"Be my guest," Garrett said with a smile as he stood up and pulled out a chair, the perfect gentleman. She smiled and sat down. For the next four hours they conversed, talking about music and critiquing the other acts on the stage. Garrett was smitten despite his better judgment. She was just too beautiful to deny, in both appearance and in manner.

As the night dragged on into the early hours of the morning, she suggested they leave. She asked Garrett if he would give her a ride home. He obliged and took her to his motorcycle and off they went.

The drive took them only a few blocks before she instructed him to park, near a set of apartment buildings. He did and they set out walking toward them. He noticed two men who appeared to be following them. It wasn't long before the caught up and barred their way. They were dressed in black leather and looked like scrappers.

The larger of the two men spoke. "You're coming with us Katarina," he said in a gruff voice. "Terrence would like an audience with you."

The man sounded like he was reading from cue cards. Katarina rolled her eyes and stepped forward. "You're not taking me anywhere, Rex," she said curtly. "I told Terrence that I wasn't interested in him or his advances and now he wants to act like a spoiled child, sending you to come get me so he can try his hand again."

Rex appeared to be insulted and took a step forward. Katarina stood her ground, refusing to show a sign of weakness.

Garrett was very confused. He didn't know what was going on or who these people were, but he wasn't going to stand for someone trying to bully a woman around. The fact that she was a vampire didn't matter. He was pissed.

"Hey," Garrett interjected to the two goons. "She told you she wasn't interested. Take a hint and leave."

Both of them puffed up at this. "So, Katarina, what does your little plaything possibly think he can do to us?" Rex turned toward Garrett. "Trust me, boy. You don't want any of this."

Katarina took a step back toward Garrett. "Don't kill them, but do give them something to think about," she whispered in his ear. He looked toward her, nodded and removed his long trench coat. He also took off his boots, much to the amusement of the two vampires standing in front of him, ready to fight. She gave him a wink which he returned.

Rex turned to his accomplice. "What do you think, Dave? Should we pound him into the concrete or just rearrange his face?" The two shared a chuckle and advanced, intending to make Garrett's life very miserable.

He smiled at them and then shifted up to crinos. Their expressions changed from amused to gravely serious in the blink of an eye as they stepped back. Katarina smiled at the two of them as she took a step back from the eight foot half-man, half-mountain lion looming over them.

"He's a shifter!" Rex exclaimed. "What the fuck, Katarina?"

She only smiled, standing still and silent as a Greek statue.

Rex and his companion sized up the Bastet in front of them. Rex drew two long blades from his coat, while Dave drew a couple iron bars. After a brief stand off, the two lunged forward.

Garrett was waiting for this. He dropped low and gave Rex a swift, hard kick in the ribs, sending him sailing across the parking lot, breaking his fall in the back windshield of a Toyota Camry.

Dave quickly closed in to Garrett's rear, bashing him in the back of the head with an iron bar. Garrett winced at the pain and spun around, grasping the hand that held the now bent iron bar and flung the vampire into the air. He reached an altitude of about thirty feet before falling, flailing wildly to the pavement below. He never hit the pavement, however. A hard forearm strike from the crinos Pumonca embedded his broken body into the doorframe of the same car that Rex had impacted.

Garrett crouched, ready for another attack. Rex managed to pull himself free of the car and charged forward. He slashed at Garrett, drawing blood across his arm. The cut ran deep enough to nick the bone. Garrett grabbed the arm that cut him. There was a sickening crunching sound as bones snapped. Rex screamed in pain, dropping the knife from his useless hand. Not letting up, Garrett twisted the injured limb backward, snapping the bone in his upper arm as well. He howled in pain again.

"Now, pry your friend out of that car and leave me alone," Katarina said. "Tell Terrence once again that I am not interested in him and there will be further repercussions for any more incidents like this."

Rex nodded and Garrett let go of his mangled arm. He ran over and pulled Dave out of the car with his functional arm, then ran away into the darkness.

Garrett paused for a moment, letting the wound heal itself. He picked up his coat and draped it over him before shifting down to homid again. He tied the belt around his coat, put his shoes on and turned to Katarina. She smiled at him.

"Shall we be off then?" she asked, sounding incredibly seductive. Garrett nodded and accompanied her to her apartment.

The interior of the residence reflected the cutting edge of trend and fashion, not the old world decorating that he expected. Garrett sat down in a chair and made himself comfortable. He noticed that all the windows were covered in thick black fabric, preventing even the tiniest amount of light from entering the room.

She sat in a chair across from him and smiled. "It might be best for you to stay here until sunrise," she said plainly. "They will probably be hunting you in larger numbers."

Garrett grew uneasy. "What can I do? Is this going to mess up my gig tomorrow night?"

She threw up a hand lightly. "Don't worry about that. I'll talk to the Prince and the Sheriff and explain the situation. I can get this swept under the rug quite easily. So you have nothing to worry about when you show up for your performance tomorrow night."

Garrett grew very confused. He had absolutely no idea what she was talking about and made it clear. He spent the rest of the night learning about kindred, their politics and the different clans. She explained that Terrence was in fact, the Brujah primogen and had become quite infatuated with her. He also told her about himself, his life and his hopes for a musical career one day.

Just before sunrise, she thanked him for his company and protection, and retired to her bedroom. Garrett remained in the living room, making sure the sun was up before lying down to get a little sleep.

He woke up around midday and went out to his bike to get some clothes. He came back up to the apartment, showered, got dressed and set out into the city.

The rest of the day was spent pondering all the things that had happened to him the previous night. The day before, he had never even seen a vampire, now he had met a few, fought a few and spent the night with one. It was a lot to ponder.

The sun gradually began to sink in the sky, so he went to the Spectrum Club. He figured if Katarina woke up late, he would be safer there than on the streets. He went up to the third floor, sat his guitar on the stage and ordered a drink. There he remained for a few hours. After sundown, Spencer arrived, saw that Garrett was already there and conversed with him for a moment. Garrett explained what had happened the night before and that it was supposed to be getting taken care of. Spencer was concerned but confident that everything would work out. Before taking his leave, he reminded Garrett about the rules he would have to follow while in the club.

When seven o'clock rolled around, Katarina appeared on the third floor. She walked over to Garrett's table and sat down.

"I talked to the Prince," she said. "You're off the hook."

Garrett drew a noticeable sigh of relief and thanked her.

"No," she said. "It is I who need to thank you. If you wouldn't have been there last night, I would have been accosted and thoroughly annoyed for the rest of the evening. If it's one thing most Brujah lack, it's manners."

The hour passed quickly and it was time for him to take the stage. He was feeling very good that evening and it showed in his performance. With his music, he commanded the attention of everyone in the room. They hung on his every verse and applauded every song. After nearly two hours and the last encore, he stepped off the stage feeling almost like a god, basking in the praise and adoration of the room. It seemed like everyone wanted to come up and congratulate him on his performance.

Katarina sat at the table with a coy smile on her face. She complimented his performance and gave him a slip of paper. It had a phone number on it that she advised him to call tomorrow. Not thinking anything of it, he thanked her and slipped it in his pocket.

Spencer also complimented Garrett's performance, handing him his wage. It contained one thousand dollars. Garrett couldn't believe it; this was much more than he had ever been paid for a gig. He thanked Spencer and sat back down with a glass of bourbon on the house.

The rest of the night was spent with Katarina, talking and learning more about a world he hadn't even believed existed less than a year ago.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Garrett awoke the next day on her couch and set out for another town and another gig. He wrote a note saying he would keep in touch and left it on her table before leaving the apartment.

On the outskirts of Indianapolis, he remembered the phone number that had been given to him earlier, so he stopped at a pay phone and dialed it.

The phone rang once and was answered almost immediately.

"Mercer talent agency, how may I direct your call?"

Garrett was too bewildered to talk for a moment. Then he collected himself and answered. "Yes, my name is Garrett Rainbird. I am calling on behalf of Miss Katarina VanDressel, who gave me this number and told me to …"

"Just one moment sir," the receptionist said as his call was transferred.

"Tony Rollins," a man said on the other side of the receiver.

Garrett introduced himself and explained how he had gotten the number.

"Oh yeah, she called me last night and told me about you," Tony said. "It appears that you're not going to have to wander from bar to bar looking for work anymore. We're going to find venues for you. Mr. Rainbird, you now have yourself an agent."


	5. On the way to Adams

**Chapter Five: On the way to Adams**

_(Author's note: a year has passed since Garrett left Indianapolis.)_

* * *

It started out to be an uneventful spring day in Eastern Tennessee.

Garrett pulled into a service station to get some gas and a bite to eat. There was still about an hour of riding, by his reckoning, before he made it to Adams, where he had a gig that night in a place called the Bear's Den. He filled up his bike and then went inside to pay.

He was milling through the aisles looking at snack foods when two men came in through the automatic doors. They were wearing what appeared to be panty hose over their faces. One of them was wielding a .38 revolver. The other had a shotgun.

"Open the goddamn register and give me everything inside!" the man with the pistol yelled at the frightened teenage girl behind the counter. She cringed, terrified and began to do as she was told.

"Hurry up," he shouted, "unless you want one in the face!"

She let out a small yelp as she began to cry and sob. "Please don't hurt me," she said, trying to put the cash in a paper sack as fast as she could.

"Shut up!" he shouted as he pistol-whipped her in the side of the head. She went sprawling to the floor, bleeding. The man jumped over the counter and started shoving money into the bag.

Garrett tensed up, but for the moment stood motionless.

The man with the shotgun covered the first man's back and instructed everyone else to get down on the floor. Garrett was the only other person in the establishment; he stood there, unmoving.

"Are you deaf or something?" the thug said as he made his way towards the tall Native American at the end of the aisle. "I said get the fuck down or I'll put you down!"

Garrett let his trench coat fall to the floor as he said, "I don't think you want to do that."

Unnerved by the response, he pressed the shotgun to Garrett's chest. "I'm gonna give you to the count of three, or I'm going to put a hole through your chest big enough for me to crawl through. One... Two..."

Garrett moved as fast as he could in homid form, knocking the shotgun away from his body as it contorted, shifting into his crinos form. Blood sprayed a fine mist from his arm as the gun went off, causing the bags of chips behind him to explode.

The shotgun man visibly started to blubber as the half man, half puma facing him gave a menacing growl.

He tried to wheel the shotgun back around to get another shot, but it was no use. The massive beast swatted him, sending him through a sliding glass door into the beer behind it.

The man with the pistol wheeled around to see this and fired a shot wildly.

Garrett ducked down into the aisle and moved up it quickly, shifting to chatro, his war form. He came around the corner as the man fired another shot, catching him in the shoulder. The girl behind the counter fainted as the huge, saber-toothed, catlike creature plowed into the man and sent him back through the automatic doors. The automatic open feature could not react fast enough, just starting to part as the man hit the doors, shattering glass and bending the frame before passing through them. He spilled out into the parking lot where thankfully, there was no one else to witness it. His gun went skittering along the pavement, almost into the road.

He was struggling to crawl away, but the beast was upon him again. Garrett shifted back up to Crinos form and picked him up by what was left of his shirt collar.

He heard a noise behind him. It was the first man, the one with the shotgun. The bastard had managed to free himself from the confines of the drink cooler and was struggling to stand. He still had the shotgun and was staring at Garrett. The delirium had pushed him into the fight or flight instinct. As he lifted the shotgun, it was clear he intended to fight.

Without a second thought, Garrett hurled the broken man at the door. One last shot was fired as the two men collided. The body in motion absorbed the entire blast as it impacted the other. Neither man was going to live through this.

Garrett's sense of reason suddenly kicked in. Get out of here now before the cops show up.

Reacting quickly, Garrett shifted into his feline form and bolted back into the building. He reverted to homid, picked up his coat, retrieved the video tape that had recorded the events and paid for his gas before riding out as fast as he could.

After getting a few miles down the highway, he pulled off down an old dirt road and stopped. He got some clothes out of one of his saddle bags and put them on. He hated having to constantly buy new clothes after every gig, but right now he didn't know what else to do.

Oh well … next stop, Adams.


	6. John Lightfoot and the first dream

**Chapter Six: John Lightfoot and the first dream**

Garrett arrived at the Bear's Den an hour or so before dusk. It was a fairly rustic establishment, decked out in dark wood, but appeared to be a fairly busy place as far as small town bars can be. It was probably the only bar for miles.

He pulled his Harley into the gravel parking lot and took a quick look around. His name was up on a sign in front that advertised the night's events. He smiled at this, unstrapped his guitar from the bike and went inside.

As he walked through the doors, he took in the place. It was fairly dark as most bars tend to be; it also was fairly spacious, with a modest dance floor. There were already a few regulars, even though it was only about 5:00.

Before he could get to the stage, a rather large man stepped in his way. He was tall, about six and a half feet, burly and rather unkempt, with a gruff looking beard.

"You must be Rainbird," he said, extending his hand. "They call me Bear. I own this place."

"Good to meet you," Garrett said. "Nice place you have here."

Bear nodded and looked to the stage. "It gets me by," he said. "You'll set up over there. We have everything that your agent said you would need."

"It looks like it," Garrett said. "Now, shall we discuss business?"

"You'll play a three hour set starting at eight," he said matter of factly. "How good you are determines how well you get paid. And if you want anything to drink, it comes out of your pay. Also, since your agent told me I needed to, I arranged for a room at the hotel down the street. They don't have any single rooms, so it's a double."

"Sounds great, thanks."

Garrett walked to the stage, guitar in hand and got situated. It wasn't a great setup, but it would do well enough.

It was still a little early, so he found a table and ordered a beer. He lit up a cigarette and relaxed for a little while. He took in the feel of the place and started piecing together what he would play for the people. Probably a lot of classic rock, some Skynnyrd, some Zeppelin ... hell maybe even a little country to get them rowdy for a bit. He would play pretty much anything that would make them buy more beer, which in turn, would mean a better paycheck.

The time rolled around and he took the stage. By then, a few more people had shown up and it would be a decent sized audience. He started his first set and let his music do the talking. The crowd took it in and cheered. They got rowdy once or twice when he played to their likes. But mostly they just sat back and enjoyed themselves by drinking and listening.

The first set ended and he took a break, settling into another beer or two. Bear came up to the table with a smile on his face barely visible through his beard.

"You're better than your agent said you were," he said with a grin that revealed a missing tooth. "Don't worry about the beer. It's all on me."

Garrett nodded with a smile and raised his bottle. The audience was loving the music and the atmosphere was friendly. It was a pleasant change from playing some vampire club in the city with everyone in the crowd plotting on one another and trying to figure out how to kill him without making a scene.

It came time for his second set and he got back on the stage. He played to the crowd and they loved it. Easy money. Yeah, a lot more fun than a vampire club, even though they did tend to pay very well.

Once the second set was over, he packed up his guitar and went back to his table to have another beer before closing time. Bear came up to him shortly afterwards.

"That was one hell of a show, kid," Bear said while counting out twenty dollar bills. "You earned your keep and then some."

He handed Garrett approximately $900.

He took the money and put it in his pocket without even counting it. "Much obliged. Now, where did you say that hotel was?"

"It's the Motel Six right down the street from here," Bear said. "But I have a favor to ask of you."

"Go ahead."

"I got a guy here that don't have a place to stay tonight and doesn't have much money. I figured since you have a double room, that you wouldn't mind letting him bunk up with you for the night."

"Who is he?" Garrett asked.

Bear pointed across the room to a table in the corner. "His name's John Lightfoot. Seems like an okay guy."

Garrett peered across the smoky barroom. The man had an average build with an almost military style haircut. There was one thing that made him stick out from the crowd though. There were four distinct slash marks running down one side of his face and neck, signifying a bad injury, years ago. He didn't appear to have any Wyrm taint, so Garrett agreed to the deal.

He walked over to the man's table and sat down.

"So I hear you need a place to stay," Garrett said, looking him in the eye.

"You heard right," the man said, looking back. "The name's Lightfoot, John Lightfoot."

"Good to meet you," Garrett said. "Listen, I'm about to get out of here and get some sleep. Do you have any wheels?"

"Yeah, I have a truck outside."

"All right then, you can follow me."

The two exited the bar and rode down to the Motel Six. Sure enough, the light was on. Garrett got a key from the front desk and then went to grab some things from his bike. John waited, duffel bag in hand and followed him up.

They lay down in their respective beds and proceeded to get some shut-eye.

* * *

Strange things started to happen under Garrett's eyelids after he lost consciousness.

What appeared to be a fox tail flashed briefly before him. It appeared to be running from someone or something.

The world shifted suddenly to what looked like a small town. A sign said Potter's Mill and the sun was shining brightly. Lawns were green and nicely trimmed and it looked like a nice place.

Then the fox came running by again. A dark figure appeared and his face briefly reflected off a window on one of the houses. The sky darkened. Suddenly the town looked like it had been abandoned for years. Everything looked dead.

Garrett pursued the strange figure down a few streets and came to a tangled wood line. He kept on pursuing but he lost the trail soon after getting into the woods. Then he came upon a strange clearing. There was a large bluish stone in the center with a splotch of red on one side. As he watched, the spot grew larger, until it nearly covered the stone in red. There was a scream of pain as a woman fell to the ground, previously hidden on the other side of the rock. Another scream and her blood sprayed the rock and covered the last of it in red. Her screams tore at Garrett's soul. He knew those screams.

Garrett woke up with a roar. He found himself in Crinos form. The bed was groaning with all the extra weight. Instinctively, he wheeled his head right, to the other bed. He didn't expect to see what he saw.

Another Crinos puma form was staring back at him.

"Well, this is surprising," John said in the Bastet speech. "I didn't really figure you for a shifter."

"You're ... you're like me," Garrett said, trying to comprehend what he saw. "You are the first Pumonca I've ever met before."

"It's not surprising," John said. "We're not that common anymore. What the hell rattled you so bad anyhow?"

"A dream," Garrett replied.

"A vision," John said. "I had one too. What was yours like?"

Garrett explained his dream. John nodded and said he had dreamed the same one.

"So what do you think this means?" Garrett asked.

"I think the two of us might have some work to do in Potter's Mill," John said. "It's about an hour east of here. Something's wrong and it has Wyrm written all over it. There's a caern over there somewhere … it's a holy place for the Garou, and it's in trouble. I think the totem spirit over there is calling to us for help."

Garrett looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside him. It read 4:00 a.m. "Well, at any rate, we can't do much right now, so let's get back to sleep."

Garrett shifted down to homid form, noticing he had ripped the clothes off his body as usual.

"Oh good God, I didn't want to see that," John said, averting his eyes. "You don't know how to bond clothing?"

"Bond ... what?"

"Don't worry about it, I'll teach you tomorrow. But for now, please put some damn clothes on."

Garrett pulled another set of clothes from one of his saddle bags and lay back down to sleep.


	7. The caern and the mill

**Chapter Seven: The caern and the mill**

The sun rose the next morning and they were up with it. The first few hours of daylight were spent bonding items of clothing to Garrett's body, so they wouldn't rip off when he shifted. They wouldn't show up on his body while in his other forms, but would reappear on him when he shifted down to Homid or Sokto.

They got a bite to eat and prepared to set off for Potter's Mill.

The trip was fairly short and uneventful. They made it to Potter's Mill around lunch time. Both of them were hungry, so they decided to stop in a little diner called Suzie's, just inside of town.

They walked into the establishment and sat down in a booth. They ordered lunch and soon, it was laid out before them. John eyed his food with hunger and went to take a bite. Garrett stopped him before the fork could reach his mouth.

"You don't want to do that," Garrett said, pushing John's fork back down to the plate.

"Why not?" John asked, puzzled.

"Can't you smell it?"

John, paying a little more attention now, inhaled deeply as his eyes widened slightly.

"This shit is tainted," he whispered across the table.

Garrett nodded and looked around the diner. So many people must come in here on a regular basis and have no idea what they're doing to themselves he thought. The food was corrupted with Wyrm energy.

Then, something caught his eye.

Two men were seated in a booth near the door. Both of them had a sallow look to them, both dressed head to toe in greasy black leather. The diner smelled of Wyrm taint but these two reeked of it.

Garrett and John observed them inconspicuously as they conversed among themselves. Neither of the men noticed that they were being watched. They might not have even cared.

"I'll see if I can't get a little closer and see what they're talking about," John said as he got up from the booth. Thankfully, the bathrooms were situated by the door, not far from where the two men were sitting.

As John passed by, he listened in as closely as he could on their conversation.

"Everything seems to be going according to plan. Now that we got rid of the last of those bitches, the mill can get back to business."

"But how are we going to catch that little bastard when we can't even find him?"

"I already told you ... if we keep up what we're doing, we'll have him without a chase."

John walked on by and pretended to use the bathroom. He came back to the table as the two unsavory men paid for their meal and walked out, riding away on loud Harley Davidson motorcycles.

John relayed the information to Garrett. They discussed their next move and decided to check out the mill later on that night. It was apparently the biggest source of corruption.

Now they needed to find the caern.

They paid their tab and walked out of the diner.

After getting in the truck, they drove around, finding a good place to park near the Potter's Mill Hotel. They got out and headed into the wood line.

When the dense foliage concealed them from prying eyes, the shifted to their feline forms to get a better feel for their surroundings. The scent of blood was soon picked up and they followed through the woods. A clearing in the trees opened up to them after a few thousand yards of tracking. There was a large blue standing stone in the center. Suddenly Garrett and John both knew exactly where they were. Though the place was thick with the smell of blood, the trail didn't end here.

On the other side of the clearing, they found the end of the blood trail. A black wolf lay tucked away in a patch of tall grass. Blood oozed from many wounds on her body. As the two pumas drew near, she opened her eyes and looked at them.

She drew a labored breath and spoke. "Oh great," she said in the speech of the changing breeds. "Not only is it two cats that finally come to our aid, but they're males as well."

"You're wounded," Garrett replied. "Let me help you."

The werewolf growled. "I don't need any help … from a male."

John broke his silence. "Regardless of his gender, if you don't let us help you, you're going to die."

She directed her eyes toward John and narrowed them. "I was already dead before you arrived," she managed to say before coughing up blood. "My whole pack is dead. We fended them off as long as we could, but it was no use. Now our caern will fall to the Wyrm."

"Not yet it won't," Garrett said. "There is still hope. We will do everything we can to keep this caern under Gaia's control."

She managed a pained laugh. "What can you do?" she asked. "My entire pack went down fighting, how can the two of you really expect to make a difference by yourselves?"

"I don't know," Garrett said, "but if a difference can be made, we will make it."

She looked at Garrett and took another labored breath. "You're serious aren't you?" she asked, as her eyes began to fade. "Find Ursula, she can help you …"

Her eyes lost focus and her breathing ceased as her body shifted to human form. Garrett and John looked at each other and shifted to their Sokto forms to give her a proper burial.

They left the woods in human form, intent on ending the corruption that was plaguing this town.

But for now, they needed accommodations. They were probably going to be here for awhile.

The two drove down to the only hotel in town, the Potters Mill Hotel, owned and operated by Sarah Miller, the mayor. The two entered the hotel to book a room for the next three nights. Upon entering, they noticed a young girl behind the counter. She looked bored.

They procured a room and just out of curiosity, they asked if anyone knew a person named Ursula. All they got were confused looks and shrugged shoulders. It was worth a shot, even though it didn't pan out.

The sun fell and the two Bastet set out for the mill. They proceeded on foot, leaving the truck at the hotel, fearing that it might be identified, putting them at the scene.

The mill loomed over the dark, foggy landscape, a hulking wooden building looking old in some places, new in others. There was a single light in what appeared to be an office on the second floor.

Moving silently, they crept to the door in their Sokto forms, Garrett with his .45, John with a 12 gauge shotgun. They went inside and found the main floor of the mill dark and empty. On the opposite wall, there were stairs leading up and stairs leading down.

They cautiously moved up the stairs, headed for the office where they saw the light. They positioned themselves on either side of the door, waited for a moment, then opened it and moved in quickly, each covering a different angle into the room.

The office appeared empty. A tape player on the desk turned on and began to play when the door was opened.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," the voice on the tape said. "You really should visit during normal operating hours, but I know you didn't come here to talk. You are trespassing on private property and are breaking the law. You will now be dealt with in an orderly manner."

They turned from the desk and realized they were no longer alone in the office. Two men, or what used to be men, were moving toward them very slowly. They didn't appear to have many mental functions left. They looked like something out of an old B horror film.

Then from behind the two zombies, a canister sailed through the open doorway and bounced off the floor. It began emitting a thick smoke into the room. The lights went out and a slam was heard as the door was shut.

"Quick!" John shouted. "Cut and run!"

John shifted to his crinos form and leapt at the plate glass window on the other side of the desk. A loud thud was heard as he impacted the double-paned, bullet resistant glass and slid down to the floor. John sat on the floor for a second, shaking the stars out from in front of his eyes.

Garrett also shifted to crinos and charged across the other side of the room, ramming through the door and the Pentex first-teamer on the other side. As he hit the stairs however, the weight of his body was too much for it, sending him crashing through it to the concrete floor below. Shards and splinters from the stairs found their way into the skin of his legs and feet.

Sporadic gunfire was heard as he hit the ground and instinctively rolled to cover under the raised metal walkway.

John also charged for the doorway, but in the dark, missed it slightly. He took a portion of the wall with him as he went. When he cleared the doorway, he reached out in the darkness and found one of his attackers. Still moving for the stairs, he grabbed hold of the man and slung him out over the open main floor where he bounced off the concrete a few times before coming to rest against a large piece of machinery.

John also crashed through what was left of the stairs and came to rest to the concrete floor, making a slightly better landing than Garrett did. Now that he could see, he also ducked under the metal walkway and took cover.

For now, they were relatively safe from the gunfire. Neither side could really make a move without putting themselves in harm's way. John shifted to his sokto form and fired a shot through the floor with the shotgun. It created more problems than it solved. The hole created in the floor was quickly taken up by a gun barrel that sprayed bullets down at them. The two dove out of the way and dashed for a large piece of machinery on the open floor. John dropped the shotgun in the process.

Upon reaching cover, they noticed the man that John had hurled. His body lay crumpled on the ground, but his MP-5 submachine gun lay at John's feet. Not thinking anything of it, he picked it up to lay down some cover fire for their escape. When he did, hundreds of needles popped out of the handle. John winced in pain and struggled to free his hand. When he finally managed to pry it off, Garrett fired some shots at the walkway and they made a run for the door with bullets landing and ricocheting all around them.

John crashed through the door in chatro form and kept on running. He stopped when he reached the road just in time to be blinded by a pair of oncoming headlights. The truck tried to stop in time, but to no avail. It slammed into John and sent him rolling into a ditch by the side of the road. Without thinking, Garrett shifted to crinos, ran up to the truck, opened the door and pulled a man out from behind the steering wheel. He tossed the man some thirty feet before running over to John. He wasn't in great shape. Garrett did his best to half walk, half carry him to the bed of the truck before getting in and speeding off.

Just before getting out of sight of the mill, Garrett heard a shot and looked back to see that a sniper had caught John in the shoulder.

After ditching the truck and letting John heal up a bit, the two made it back to the hotel for some rest and recuperation. It wasn't going well at the moment. Now they had lost the element of surprise.

As Garrett drifted off to sleep, the visions began again.

This time he was in the caern. It looked no different than it did earlier in the day, serene and quiet. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the fox tail dart into the underbrush. He followed it through the woods, always close behind but never catching up. He ended up at a small cave on a hillside. The fox scrambled down into it and Garrett followed as best he could. On into the darkness, he bumped into something large and furry. A set of eyes pierced the darkness and two tremendous paws closed on his shoulders. He felt startled, but not threatened.

Hiseyes opened suddenly and he sat upright in bed. He knew now where to find Ursula and he had a good idea of how she would be able to help them.


	8. Finding Ursula

**Chapter Eight: Finding Ursula**

The sun was just beginning to rise when Garrett awoke from his dream. He got up and looked outside, pondering his next move. John, still fast asleep, was busy sawing logs in la la land.

Garrett walked over to the other bed and shook him awake. "Hey, wake up."

John opened his eyes in a daze, still trying to heal the last of his wounds.

"We have work to do," Garrett said. "Get dressed."

The duo rode into Potter's Mill a few hours later to begin their search for the elusive Ursula. They parked the truck at the local hotel. John appeared antsy.

"What is it?" Garrett asked.

John looked around and looked back at Garrett. "I want to get a good look around. Wait for me here, I'll be right back."

Garrett shrugged and John walked off, skulking around behind the buildings on the town square. He went down what could be construed as an alleyway and popped behind the buildings. Then he stopped dead in his tracks.

One of the men from the diner was standing there. He turned to face John and smiled.

"Here kitty, kitty …" the man said and laughed. John tensed up and prepared for a fight.

"Are you going to run?" he asked. "All the kitties I've ever encountered have run."

John started to shift.

"Yes!" the man said as he shifted to a crinos form standing more than 10 feet tall. Out of the corner of his eye, John spotted the second one, in wolf form, emerge from behind a stack of palettes. His form blurred as he swayed from side to side.

Oh shit, John thought to himself. He was outnumbered and most likely outmatched. He shifted to feline quickly and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

The crinos sneered as he looked over at his comrade. "See? I told you they always run."

Garrett was waiting by the truck for John to return when a strange and disturbing sight appeared from around the corner. A mountain lion bolted down the street, being chased by what appeared to be a large dog. He watched this in awe for an instant before realizing it was John and he was in trouble. He hopped in the truck and began to chase them down the road.

He began to gain on them because for some reason, John never veered off the main road into the wood line. He positioned himself to ram John's pursuer when a shot rang out from behind him.

He looked in his rear view mirror and was astonished to see a man standing in the back of the truck. A head popped into view on the driver's side.

"Keep her steady," he yelled out over the sound of the engine. "I'll bag that mountain lion for sure!"

Garrett didn't give himself time for second guessing. He slammed on the brakes. Thankfully, his seatbelt was fastened.

The man in the back of the truck went flying over the roof and skipped down the road like a stone on water before rolling to a stop some forty feet ahead of him. Garrett leapt from the cab and ran over to the man. As he approached, the man rolled over.

"Goddamn, what did you do that f…" he stopped as he got a better look at Garrett. His eyes narrowed and he was gone, into the umbra as he slipped sideways.

John was beginning to have better luck as he darted through the wood-line. He could hear the werewolf behind him cursing and gasping for breath as he lagged further and further behind. He eventually lost his pursuer and ran back to rendezvous with Garrett.

The found each other near the caern and began their search in haste.

"Those were the guys from the diner?" Garrett asked.

"Yeah … Black Spiral Dancers," John replied, "malformed and twisted Garou in service of the Wyrm."

Garrett tried to navigate by remembering his dream, but it was nowhere near an exact science. They wound up going in circles more than once. When the sun prepared to descend toward the horizon, luck began to work in their favor.

As Garrett turned down the same trail for the fourth time, a red bushy tail flashed briefly and disappeared into the underbrush ahead. Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, he took off in pursuit. The wily fox spirit was hard to follow, but they kept up the chase, desperate to find what they were looking for.

The trail ended at a rocky hillside. Garrett and John stopped, looking for some sort of sign. John raised his head and sniffed the air. His nostrils caught a faint scent on the breeze. It was female. John followed the scent to the hillside, and walked around a large pile of rocks. A hole opened up behind them, leading into darkness.

He alerted Garrett and they cautiously entered the cave with Garrett in the lead.

"Ursula?" Garrett whispered.

There was no response in the darkness ahead.

"Ursula," Garrett said, louder this time. "We need your help."

A sound came out of the cave, like someone yawning. The head of a bear loomed out of the black depths of the hole. Garrett and John instinctively backed away.

"You had better have a good reason for waking me, Pumonca," the Gurahl said in a low, almost menacing voice.

"I think we have more than a good reason to wake you," Garrett said. "The caern here is in danger."

"And why is it that the Black Fury pack sent you to me," she asked growing concerned. "Where are they?"

"They're all dead."

Ursula shifted down into the form of an older, middle-aged woman as she emerged from the cave. "What happened?"

They spent the next few minutes detailing as best they could, everything that had taken place since the first dream sent by fox, to finding the cave.

"This is serious," Ursula said thoughtfully. "They are trying to corrupt the caern and make it their own. But apparently they haven't caught fox just yet."

"What happens when they catch fox?" John asked.

"The caern will be theirs."

Garrett spoke up. "What can we do?"

"First, we must save the caern," Ursula replied. "If the caern falls, we will fail no matter what. We must lead the Dancers away so I can try to purify the site."

"What do you suggest?" John asked.

Garrett and John, in feline form, bounded through the underbrush toward the caern clearing. The plan was simple: they were the bait that would divert the tainted Garou away from the caern so Ursula could do her work. Once they had successfully led them away, they would go to the hotel and try to get some outside assistance from the kinfolk there, (they had no idea those people were kinfolk). After that, they were to return to the caern to provide security.

They arrived at the clearing and sure enough, the Spirals were there. The two cougars never missed a beat and never even slowed down to pay attention to their surroundings. They shot right through the clearing and into the trees on the other side. The Spirals, bewildered and surprised, hesitated momentarily before giving chase.

They bolted back toward Ursula's position and skidded to a halt when they reached it, just she had told them to do. To their surprise, their pursuers ran right past them and didn't turn back. After waiting a few seconds to allow the BSDs to get further away, they executed the rest of the plan.

Garrett and John made it to the hotel a few minutes later. They ran through the back door to find Sarah Miller, the mayor and owner of the hotel, on the phone. The girl they had met at the front desk the day before paced back and forth, looking very distraught. They both jumped in surprise and fear when the two men burst through the back door.

Garrett nodded at Sarah, who nodded back in understanding as she hung up the phone.

"Help is on the way, but they will be awhile," she said. "For now, you two are the only hope we have."

Garrett and John paused and looked at each other.

"They took her," the girl, who identified herself as Jessica said, holding back sobs.

"Took who?" John asked.

"Karen, my sister. They took her while she was walking home from school. Please help us!"

"Who took her?" Garrett already knew the answer, but asked anyway.

"Black Spiral Dancers," Sarah said. "They probably took her to the caern to offer a sacrifice. Did you find Ursula?"

"Yes, she should be at the caern now, working to purify it."

Garrett paused for a moment and then said, "If the cavalry gets here before we get back, direct them to the caern," he said as his expression darkened. "We will bring her back … even if we have to die trying."


	9. Showdown at the Black Fury caern

**Chapter Nine: Showdown at the Black Fury caern**

Garrett and John rushed back to the caern, hoping that Ursula would have enough time, hoping they wouldn't be too late to save Karen. There was no such thing as fatigue right now … they had been running off and on all day, but now none of that made a difference.

They didn't expect what they saw when they made it there.

Ursula was there but she wasn't alone. The two Black Spiral Dancers were also there. Apparently their little ruse had not worked as well as they had intended. She was attempting to fend them off, but had her hands full … literally. The large crinos ahroun was locked in close combat with her while the theurge stood back in hispo form, appearing to be locked in a sort of spiritual combat with her. They also saw Karen, tied to the stone in the clearing, bleeding from a few open cuts on her torso. The shallow cuts formed what looked like a ritualistic design. She appeared to be unconscious.

John and Garrett didn't waste any time. They shifted, John to crinos and Garrett to chatro, and joined in the fight. John charged toward the ahroun and Garrett leapt at the theurge.

Garrett let out a roar as he bore down on the large wolf in front of him. It jumped back, avoiding him at the last second. The theurge, his concentration diverted from the Gurahl, bared his teeth and growled as his body once again began to blur. He charged.

Garrett also charged and leapt. The supernatural blur coming from the werewolf in front of him did no good to distort his position. They collided in mid-air, claws slashing, blood and fur flying from superficial wounds. The ground shook as they hit, and jumped back from one another to regroup. The theurge charged forward again, but Garrett stood his ground this time, drawing him in. The hispo was sent sprawling by a hard swat from Garrett's forepaw. Blood trickled on the ground from a gash opened up on the theurge's shoulder. He bared his teeth again, this time wincing in pain. Garrett smiled in the chatro equivalent.

The crinos ahroun was gaining little ground against the impossibly large bear in front of him, but he was holding his own. As John charged forward, the Spiral shifted his attention only slightly and caught John with a hard back fist as he sidestepped. John's feet came out from under him as he flew past, landing on his back and tumbling across the clearing.

The ahroun's shift of focus was all Ursula needed. As John flew past, she lunged forward and embedded her claws in his back, pinning him in, well, a bear hug.

The ahroun howled in pain as blood ran down his back. He struggled to get free, to no avail. In a desperate effort, he raised his hind legs and tore into her abdomen, ripping hide and flesh. Ursula screamed in pain, but didn't let go. There was an audible snapping sound as three of the Dancer's ribs broke when Ursula tightened her grip.

John got up and shook the cobwebs from his head just in time to hear a howling roar coming from the edge of the clearing. Jessica Potter had run to the clearing, unsatisfied with Garrett's promise. When she reached the clearing and saw her sister on the rock, the rage had consumed her. She had just undergone her first change.

The jet black crinos form flew through the air toward the battle. Her claws and teeth found purchase in the ahroun's back and flanks. He howled in pain again, but continued to rip into the Gurahl that had him mostly immobilized.

The arrival of a new combatant had temporarily distracted both Garrett and the theurge, but the Bastet regained his focus just a little faster. He lunged at the distracted Dancer and struck before it could react. His claws sank into the side of the theurge's face and ripped it off, simultaneously breaking the creature's neck. It fell to the ground and stopped moving.

The ahroun raked his feet into Ursula's midsection one last time and finally forced his release. She took a few steps backward and collapsed, reverting to her homid form as she fell. The Black Spiral Dancer wheeled around and struck Jessica, cutting gashes into her chest as he flung her aside. The ahroun was still in the fight, but severely wounded.

John charged forward again, this time catching the ahroun off guard. His right came downward in a vicious swipe, cutting down across the Dancer's face, removing one of his eyes. The crinos Pumonca whirled about and made a lateral claw swipe, catching him in the upper chest and neck. The attack opened a deep cut in the ahroun's neck, spurting dark, viscous blood.

Now mortally wounded, the last remaining Black Spiral Dancer frenzied. He let out a garbled roar and turned on John and Jessica. He was still hurt badly, but he was no longer feeling pain. He was only feeling rage.

John and Jessica attacked, John not wanting to give the ahroun time to heal, Jessica attacking out of instinct since she was in frenzy mode as well.

Garrett, satisfied they could handle the weakened Spiral by themselves, ran to Karen and shifted to sokto. He freed her from her restraints and laid her down beside the caern stone. She was still alive, but her breathing was shallow. She appeared to be in shock.

The ahroun gave out one last garbled scream as Jessica delivered a killing blow, crushing his skull in her jaws. She stumbled backwards and went to all fours. She began to shrink in size as she downshifted. A second later, she became aware of her surroundings and ran to Karen. She realized she was naked and hesitated. John, who had already shifted to homid when the Dancer fell, threw her his coat.

A look of fury came into her eyes when she saw the cougar beside her sister, licking the wounds on her chest. Before she could make a move to stop him, John grabbed her arm.

"Hold on," John said gravely. "He might be the only thing keeping her alive. He's trying to heal her."

Jessica turned away, not wanting to gaze upon what she perceived as a carnal violation of her sister, and instead looked out onto the battlefield that was the caern clearing. The mutilated bodies of two men lay there, along with the body of a woman. Ursula was beyond help. She lay dead as well.

When the wounds on Jessica's chest had closed, Garrett shifted out of his feline form to homid and wrapped his long trench coat around her.

"We have to move, now," he said, turning to his two comrades. "Her wounds are healed, but I think she's in shock. She needs someone with better skills than me. Let's get her back to the hotel."

Garrett picked Karen's limp body in his arms and ran in the direction of the hotel. John and Jessica followed. Garrett prayed there would be someone who could help this girl when they got there.


	10. The coming of the cavalry

**Chapter Ten: The Coming of the Cavalry**

Garrett carried Karen in the back door of the hotel, followed closely by Jessica and John. He laid her on the floor and checked her vitals again. Her breathing was better now and the rise and fall of her chest was less shallow. She was still unconscious, however and unresponsive.

Garrett backed away as Sarah came into the room and ran to her daughter, kneeling by her side.

Without warning, the back door opened and five figures walked in, three men, one woman and a red wolf.

Seeing Karen on the floor, the woman rushed to her and placed her hands on her. A glow emanated from her hands as Karen's breathing returned to normal.

"She's going to be okay now," the woman said caringly to Sarah.

A tall, Native American man stepped forward as the leader of the group. "My name is Andrew Windsinger, a galliard of the Wendigo tribe, and this is the silver pack. We have come to cleanse this place of the Wyrm."

He pointed to a large, muscle-bound and heavily scarred man in the corner. "This is Arnold Fest, an ahroun of the Get of Fenris."

"This is Emilio Ragasa, an Uktena ragabash," Windsinger said, pointing to the slim, olive complected man in the corner.

Windsinger continued down the line. "The wolf you see here is Sophia, a Red Talon philodox, so don't take it personally if she doesn't shift to homid." Sophia growled slightly at the word homid.

Finally, he turned to the woman who had healed Karen. "And this is Jemma, our Child of Gaia theurge."

Windsinger turned to the two Bastet and gave them a confused look, but smiled. "Long have our respective breeds been at odds with one another. I don't know what brought you here, but I am grateful for it. If it hadn't been for you two, we may very well have lost this caern. We are aware of your actions at the caern site. You have fought honorably against an enemy you had no obligation to face. For that, we thank you."

Garrett and John nodded. Jemma smiled. Arnold sneered.

Windsinger paused, and then continued. "We have scouted the area according to the report we received from Ms. Miller. We have identified the diner and the mill as sources of taint that will be destroyed. Also, there is a bane spirit at the head waters of the river running through this town, corrupting the water supply. Arnold will take the diner, Sophia will deal with the bane spirit and the rest of us will contend with the mill. I understand Pentex has a 1st Team emplaced there."

Garrett and John nodded, not knowing what a 1st team was, but guessing he was probably right.

"How many would you say are left?"

Garrett thought for a moment and then answered. "I would say at least six, possibly more."

Windsinger smiled. "Okay, here's the plan."

The three Garou and two Bastet arrived at the mill a short while later. John and Garrett were the bait … err … recon element, which would go in initially and draw out any resistance. The Garou, led by Windsinger, would be the reserve element and demolition team, which would prevent the enemy from escaping and add an element of surprise before destroying the facility.

John and Garrett snuck in the front door, the memory of the last night still very fresh in their minds. The stairs leading to the second floor were still in shambles and there were still blood stains on the floor where the two men they had managed to kill had fallen.

With the second floor stairs demolished, there was only one way to go: down.

They crept to the stairs leading to the basement and peered down. Two men stood at the foot of the stairs with their backs to them. They swayed back and forth slightly. Upon closer examination, they appeared to be the same men Garrett and John had killed the night before.

"They're like zombies or something," John whispered.

"Or something," Garrett said.

John crept down the stairs, taking care to be quiet, so he could take a better look at the area below.

The basement area was relatively open, with machinery near the far wall. At least five more men were on the floor, all armed. One of them had what appeared to be a flame thrower with two large tanks on his back. The several supporting columns would hopefully provide some cover from gunfire. At the moment, no one appeared to be aware of their presence.

No time like the present, John thought as he shifted to chatro and bounded down the stairs toward the two posted guards. He swatted them both to either side as he hit the bottom of the stairs. Then he screamed in pain.

The two guards would be of no more consequence, but the silver pins keeping their bones together, now embedded in John's forepaws, were presenting a painful problem.

He shifted to sokto and did his best to remove all the silver from his hands as the gunfire started. He ducked behind a pillar to shield himself.

Garrett shifted to crinos and bounded down the stairs. He rolled left at the bottom as the bullets whizzed past, narrowly missing him. A jet of balefire scorched his fur as he took cover behind another pillar.

Garrett did a quick pan of his surroundings. The bigger picture was worse than the view from the stairs. There were just five men in here, but they weren't the only potential threats. There was a large strange-looking machine on the far wall with a conveyor belt leading to another large machine. A woman, unconscious, was on the conveyor belt, moving slowly toward the machine at the end.

Beyond it was a large steel cage. Perhaps half a dozen fomori were locked inside. They jumped back and forth, fighting the bars that held them. A stray bullet from the 1st Team flew in the direction of the cage. When it hit one in the head, the rest stopped trying to escape and crowded around the dead one, devouring it.

Garrett made his move. Running as fast as he could, he made his way to the woman on the conveyor belt. He grabbed the woman as he leaped over the conveyor belt. He landed on the other side, placed the woman on the ground and took cover from the hail of bullets that rained overhead.

Then she woke up.

The woman took one look at the crinos form beside her and jumped up to run. Before Garrett could react, five bullets tore into her upper torso, dropping her on the spot.

Garrett stared wide-eyed at the dead woman on the ground and fought off the urge to frenzy. Losing control of himself at this moment would likely get him killed.

He ripped a long strip of metal off the conveyor and jumped up, took quick aim, and hurled it at the men shooting at him. The steel strip flew through the air at a 1st teamer armed with an MP-5. He dodged it easily enough, ducking down. The man behind him with the balefire flamethrower had his back turned. The metal strip hit one of the tanks hard enough to puncture it.

The resulting explosion obliterated the 1st team, leaving hardly more than a few burning pieces of flesh and gear strewn about the basement walls and floor. John was also caught in the blast radius but the column in front of him took the brunt of the force. The flames, however, singed most of the hair off his body. The only burns he received were superficial, but damn that had to hurt.

The machine in the vicinity of the 1st team also exploded, creating a large hole in the ceiling, near the front door and sending a large piece of shrapnel toward the cage of fomori. Unfortunately none of the remaining creatures were harmed, but the top of the cage had been mostly ripped off. They scrambled out of their confines. The fomori started climbing through the hole, possibly to attempt an escape.

John, after putting himself out, wasn't about to let that happen. Despite his burns, he pursued and prepared to leap through the hole. Unfortunately, he slipped in a pool of blood or a blood-like substance, and misjudged his angle of ascent. He leapt into the air and missed the hole, banging his head savagely on a steel beam hard enough to dent it. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

From his position in the basement, Garrett could see the Garou element had arrived. Two crinos werewolves jumped down through the hole. One ran to John and the other ran to the machinery. The crinos with John was surely Jemma, Garrett perceived as he saw her lay hands on his unconscious comrade and revive him.

Garrett leapt upward and made his to the first floor through the hole, in pursuit of the fomori. Two turned to face him. One charged forward. Garrett caught the creature by the throat and slammed it hard against the floor. He then flung the creature at the other fomor, which had turned to run. The fleeing fomor dodged at the last second, baring its fang-like teeth and hissing. The airborne fomor impacted a steel column with a wet smack, wrapping around it forcefully.

John awoke seconds after Jemma applied her healing hands. He got up quickly and successfully jumped through the hole this time. The majority of the fomori had ascended to the main floor and was attacking Garrett and Windsinger, who barred their exit.

John made short work of the first one to cross his path, hitting it with enough force to take its head off. He looked in Garrett's direction to see how he was doing. Garrett was currently squared off with a frog-like acid spitter. As he ducked and dodged the corrosive streams aimed at him, he was failing to notice one preparing a surprise attack.

John spotted one with wings swooping down, going in for the kill. John took off running and managed to tackle the creature in mid-air, just a few feet from its mark.

The two fell down through the open hole and onto the ruined cage. The winged fomor landed on the steel bars, impaling itself once through the head and twice through the torso. John was luckier, but not by much. He too landed on the bent and broken bars, impaling himself through the leg.

Garrett turned to see what had happened to John and caught an acid stream in the back. He winced in agonizing pain as the acid ate into his skin. He half jumped half fell down to pull John off his makeshift skewer.

Emilio came running in their direction from the undamaged machine. "We have to get out of here now!" he shouted. "This place is about to blow!"

Garrett managed to pull John off the bar and with Emilio's help, hurled him up and out of the basement. The two jumped up to the first floor as Emilio scooped John up and ran out the door with him. Windsinger was busy defending himself from three fomori. Garrett went to help him. Before he could, a hand grabbed his arm. He turned around.

"He'll be fine. We have to get out, now," Jemma said as she pulled him toward the door.

Garrett took one last look back before running out the door. A few seconds later, the entire mill went up in one large fireball. The shockwave of the blast hurled him face forward to the ground. He turned and looked at the blaze and hung his head. Jemma came walking over, having just finished with John's wounds. She placed her hands on Garrett's back and some of the pain he was ignoring subsided.

Somewhere in the distance, a helicopter buzzed away, headed out of town.

One hour later, they were all back at the caern: John, Garrett, Jessica and the silver pack including Windsinger, who had managed to escape by stepping sideways.

Arnold had had no trouble taking out the diner by himself. He was pissed off because there wasn't much resistance. Sophia had also successful in removing the bane spirit at the headwaters.

Rites of passage were held for John, Garrett and Jessica and a rite of cleansing was performed on the caern site. Fox returned to the caern, now that there was nothing left to fear. The rest of the night was spent spinning tales, reveling and healing wounds.

The next morning, Garrett got a phone call.

"Mr. Rainbird, it's Tony. I have another gig for you. Now before I get into how much it pays or doesn't pay, I'll tell you the juiciest detail. If you do well, you might land yourself a recording contract."

"Where am I going?" Garrett asked, growing very interested.

"Pittsburgh, in three days, at a place called the Barbarosa Club."

"What's the premise?"

Tony gave out a small chuckle. "It's a talent show, of sorts. A competition, if you will. The first night is the preliminaries; the second night is the finals."

"Intriguing … I'll be there."


	11. The Barbarosa Club

**The Barbarosa Club**

_Author's note: Even though author's notes are usually egotistical, I feel I need to get a point across. Yes, vampires and Gaian shifters are typically mortal enemies. They hate each other and kill each other on sight. But that is not always the case. Garrett doesn't yet understand what he is getting into by forming working (and sometimes personal) relationships with the kindred. Nor does he care at this point. He fails to see the larger picture thus far. Furthermore, he is his own person and makes his own choices as he sees fit. Also, a vampire would consider it quite a prize to have a shifter as a pawn they can manipulate to their own whims. Finally, this is fan fiction and anything can happen! That is all._

_Enjoy!

* * *

_

The lone biker rode into Pittsburgh. The steel city had the look of an industrial wasteland and an urban metropolis simultaneously.

The cool April breeze on his face felt crisp, not quite as warm as Tennessee. The city at sundown was alive with activity, people everywhere in one big hurry. Garrett, however, was in no hurry. He was a day early for his gig, there was a little extra money in his pocket and for now, he would take his time.

After getting a room at a nearby motel, he decided to go to the club.

As he turned onto Victoria Street, the Barbarosa Club came into view. This place looked very trendy. It was a large, three level brick building, with a large black sign and flaming letters spelling out the name. He guessed there was probably a basement area as well. Velvet ropes were already in place, but apparently they had only just opened; no line had formed yet.

A day early could very well mean a step ahead of the competition, so he pulled in to have a look at the place. He parked his vintage motorcycle in the parking lot and walked to the door.

The place was dimly lit, with nice tables and chairs sporadically placed around the floor. The walls were hardwood, possibly mahogany. The floors were a dark green marble.

It's a high class place. I'm going to have to rethink my strategy for this one if I want to score points with the judges and the crowd.

There was a set of stairs leading down, to the left of the front door. Across the room there was a set of stairs as well as an elevator. He guessed the elevator would be the only way to the third floor.

A pretty girl in her early twenties manned the bar across from the door. The bar was as of yet sparsely populated. She leaned forward against the bar, twirling a lock of bright red hair as she skimmed through a college textbook.

Garrett walked to the bar and sat down right across from the bartender. She looked up from her book, gazed at the man in front of her and looked him up and down.

"What can I get for ya, handsome," she asked giving him a half smile. Garrett wasn't supermodel material, but his smooth, toned body and sharp features made plenty of the girls swoon readily.

"I need a beer, I have a question and then I might ask a favor," he replied, smiling. "I'm playing here tomorrow night in the talent show thing, and I was wondering where it was going to be held."

"It's gonna be on the third floor, hon."

"Is it open to the public at the moment?"

"Not yet … it opens up at around eleven."

Hmm … Let's try something and see if it works.

"Is there any chance I could pop up there and scout the place out? Get a feel for the acoustics maybe?"

He smiled and looked intently into her eyes. Come on charm, don't fail me now.

She looked at him with a '_you know that's not within my power_' expression and walked to the end of the bar. She spoke into some sort of intercom, listened, then nodded. She walked over to Garrett's seat and smiled.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. Go over to the elevator and hit 3, 6, 9 on the keypad."

Garrett's smile widened. "You're too kind."

He walked over to the elevator and did as he was instructed. The door opened a few seconds later and he got in.

After a brief ride up, the third floor opened up to him. It was spacious and very posh. A stage, lined with velvet curtains jutted out of the side wall. A mahogany bar ran across the wall on the other side. The place looked like a dinner theater, not a very appropriate place for a rock musician. This was definitely a tear jerking ballad kind of place. Not a place for delta blues.

He stepped onto the stage and turned to face the room. All the chairs at the tables were situated to face the stage. In fact, the whole room seemed to be arranged like an amphitheatre.

He hummed a few notes. The he sang a few lines. There were no echoes to be heard. Whoever arranged this room had optimal sound in mind.

He turned to look at the sound equipment. It was very high quality stuff. He probably wouldn't be able to afford it, even if he saved every penny for a year.

"Excuse me, might I ask what you are doing here?" a female voice inquired behind him.

Garrett turned and looked. A woman was sitting at the bar, holding a tumbler glass. She was wearing a very expensive lookingblue partydress, which accentuated her flawless ivory skin. Her eyes were a deep sapphire blue that held Garrett temporarily hostage. She had long, wavy, straw-colored hair that poured over her shoulders. She was stunningly beautiful.

_What to say, what to say?_

"Umm, I just came up to check the layout of the room, and the acoustics; I'm playing here tomorrow night. They told me it was okay," Garrett replied, not really knowing how he was supposed to reply.

She laughed pleasantly. "It's okay. I know why you're up here. After all, I approved it. Please continue with your peculiar sound check."

Garrett blushed slightly. "I was actually just about done. I take it you own this establishment?"

She nodded, still smiling.

"You seem really young to be the owner … umm, what I mean to say is, um, yeah."

Now he was really blushing. Just be cool, take a breath and relax.

Her eyebrows jumped briefly. "Well, daddy has a lot of money, you could say."

"Well I have to say you've got this place acoustically tuned almost perfectly, from what I can tell. You definitely have talent in that department."

He walked over and took a seat at the bar beside her. "I'm Garrett, by the way. Garrett Rainbird."

Upon closer examination, it wasn't hard to tell her true nature. She was a vampire, a Toreador by the look of her. It didn't, however, make him feel any less attracted to her.

He took her hand when she offered and kissed it, feeling very debonair.

"Lillian Ross. It's nice to meet someone who can fully appreciate what I've done here. Care for a drink?"

She pulled a bottle of scotch out from behind the bar. It looked old, really old. She took another tumbler and sat it in front of him.

"Aged one hundred years," she said as he began to pour himself a drink. Garrett stopped and looked at her, his eyes widening.

"It's okay, go ahead," she said, beginning to laugh again. "I've been waiting for a good reason to open it. Now I have one."

Garrett thought to himself that the bottle was probably worth more than a few grand, but he continued to pour, giving himself a healthy portion. He took a drink. Smooth as silk. Johnny Walker didn't have a thing on this. Hell, this was probably older than Johnny Walker himself.

They conversed for awhile longer, having two more glasses before she decided to put the bottle away.

"Have you been to the basement yet?" she asked as her foot rubbed up his shin.

"No, actually." Garrett could feel a heat rising in him and it wasn't just the scotch.

"You should check it out, it's a really nice little dance club if I do say so myself." She paused for a moment. "I'll meet you down there in a few. I'm hardly dressed for it. What do you say, Garrett?"

"It would be my pleasure, Ms. Ross."

Her eyes narrowed, but a grin formed at the corner of her mouth. "Please, call me Lillian. Ms. Ross makes me feel old."

Garrett's thoughts were in a flux by the time he stepped in the elevator. He had been told a long time ago by his mentor that all vampires were nothing but trouble, that they were evil and unnatural. He just never could quite take that one at face value. He had played in more than one vampire establishment after smoothing it over with the owners. He hardly ever had a problem out of them. They paid well and they were usually very polite. Sure, he'd had a few run-ins that weren't so pleasant, but so far that had been the exception, not the rule.

His mentor's voice spoke up inside his head. _She only wants to manipulate you, to use you as a pawn in some game. Don't trust her. She will only bring your downfall._

It gave Garrett pause, but he wasn't always one to listen.

The elevator took him to the first floor and he walked downstairs into the basement. It was alive with young people, partying, drinking, and dancing. Techno music pumped through the speakers creating a carnal atmosphere throughout the room. Couples grinded against each other on the dance floor to the music; the sweat on their bodies glistened and refracted under the multicolored strobe lights.

Garrett smiled as he walked over to the bar. The bar itself had a peculiar layout. There was a canopy stretching from the wall and hanging about three feet out from the bar. It looked like it was supposed to offer shade or shelter from something. Maybe it serveda purpose, but it hardly went along with the raver décor.

He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. And out of curiosity, he asked the bartender what the canopy was for.

"Wait until midnight and you'll see," she said with a wink.

Semi-satisfied with the answer, he leaned his back against the bar and looked out into the crowd. The dance floor was surrounded by tables and booths, nearly all of them filled.

A slender woman came walking up to the bar and took a seat beside Garrett. She looked over at him apathetically and turned, looking out at the crowd.

"She must really like you, you know," she said to Garrett. He looked over at her. She was dressed plainly in jeans and a leather jacket. She had a slight build, but she looked tough all the same. Probably a lot tougher than she looked, he thought, because this woman was no ordinary woman. She was kindred.

"Why do you say that?"

She looked back at him, this time taking him in. She gave him the brief up and down glance her eyes narrowed. "She's had that bottle for a long time and I have never seen her open it. You come along and she pops the top like it's a bottle of Jack Daniels."

Jesus, lady … what the hell am I supposed to say to that? I didn't twist her arm and make her open it. If I did, you would have likely twisted my head off.

"I'm Garrett, by the way," he said, trying to be polite. He offered a handshake; she ignored it.

"I already know who you are," she said, sounding annoyed. "I'm Thornn … I'm in charge of security."

Garrett decided to try to make conversation. She was a cold hard bitch, sure, but she was a cold hard bitch whose good side he would rather be on. "Is it always this packed on a Thursday night?"

She seemed to let her guard down a bit. "Yeah, pretty much. Most of them are college kids. But not those guys," she said, pointing in the direction of a table near the dance floor. There was a group of people gathered around it that hardly matched the rest of the scene. They all wore soiled looking leather jackets and looked unkempt, more so than the college kids. They didn't look like much, but looks could always be deceiving.

"Those guys are the Shatters; they're a local street gang. The guy right there," she pointed to a tall skinny guy facing them, "is Casper, their leader. They're cool though, not troublemakers … at least in here."

Without another word, she walked off. As she turned up the stairs, she looked back at Garrett. What appeared to be a pair of cat eyes gleamed back at him and then she continued up the stairs.

A few hours and a few drinks later, Lillian descended the staircase on the opposite side of the room, dressed in a white tank top and a pair of tight black jeans. Everyone watched her as she sauntered across the dance floor to the bar where Garrett was seated.

She came up to the bar and took the stool beside him. She looked out into the crowd of people, who had gone back to their own business and looked over at Garrett.

"So what do you think of the place so far?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Without looking at her, Garrett cracked a smile. "This place is incredible," he said as he took a drink and met her gaze. "You have something for everybody here."

She glanced briefly at her watch and stood up. She took a few steps and turned back toward Garrett.

"Do you dance?" she asked.

He shot her a sly grin. "I can try," he said as he got up from his bar stool and took her hand.

She led him under the pulsing strobe lights onto the dance floor. The techno music pumped through the speakers as they grinded against one another, surrounded by a sea of people. Soon, the dance floor began to clear as they stepped back to watch Garrett and Lillian.

He wasn't really well versed on dance moves per say, but Garrett let his body move to the music and react to hers. Her eyes were locked on his as they moved together, slaves to the rhythm. He felt his heart beat quicken with every move, every touch of her hands. The seconds slowed down to hours as her hands ran up his back and down his chest.

Eventually, they were the only ones on the dance floor and everyone was watching. Garrett took no notice as he was caught up in the moment.

A buzzer sounded, signaling midnight. Black lights all over the club took over the atmosphere as the strobes subsided. Sprinklers on the ceiling turned on, sprinkling everything below with phosphorescent paint, which glowed brightly under the black lights. Now Garrett understood what the canopies over the bar were for.

He didn't care about his clothes being stained, he didn't care about the fact that he was dancing with a vampire; all he cared about was having a good time. They continued to dance and grind for what seemed like days.

Finally, Lillian led him off the dance floor and back to the bar. He began to look over his clothes, which were spattered in yellow, red and green paint.

"Don't worry about your clothes," she said, "the paints are all water soluble."

They sat at the bar and conversed for another hour or so before the last call went out. Garrett got up, thanked her for a fun evening and said good night. She told him she was looking forward to his performance tomorrow night and he had better knock everyone dead.

Garrett smiled at this and left the bar. He climbed on his motorcycle and headed out into the night, back to his hotel room. Sleep overtook him moments after he lay down in bed.


	12. First night

First night

* * *

Garrett awoke about an hour after sunrise, not because he was an early riser, but because a beam of sunlight was shining in his face. Hesitantly, he rose out of bed walked over to the window.

The city was alive with the hustle and bustle of people rushing this way and that, blissfully unaware of what was going on around them. His visibility was reduced by a haze that hung thick in the air. The yellow brown smog had even managed to obscure the sun slightly.

_We're killing her and we don't care,_ a voice in his head whispered. _We've become so accustomed to our way of life that we can't turn back. It's only a matter of time before she dies … then we all die._ He tried not to think about the seemingly hopeless state of the world, but every once and awhile, the reality of it all hit him like a ton of bricks. A ton of stinking, toxic bricks.

After a short makeshift workout session and a shower, he walked downstairs to the lobby where a continental breakfast was awaiting him. He munched on a pre-packaged muffin and picked up the complimentary morning paper.

A story on the front page immediately caught his eye.

**Young girl vanishes from parents' house**

_**Police still baffled, have no answers, no leads**_

Jenny Pearson went to bed last night in her parent's home on Harrington Street at approximately 10 p.m. last night. This morning she was gone.

This marks the seventh disappearance in as many days of girls between the ages of 16 and 22. The police as of yet have no leads on the perpetrator or perpetrators.

"The kidnapper has not provided us with any useful pattern as of yet," said Pittsburgh P.D. Lt. Mike Wrezinsky. "He hasn't discriminated on race, social background … he seems to strike at a different part of the city each time. The only tie is the sex and approximate age of the victims."

With each passing day, more pressure is being put on the department to come up with a suspect.

"Our hearts go out to the families of the victims; we vow their children will be found and this person will be brought to justice," Wrezinsky said.

**See KIDNAP, Page 2A**

Garrett read through the rest of the story. There had been a kidnapping in the middle of the night, every night for the last week. There were no witnesses, no signs of forced entry, and no trace left behind. The only common threads that tied them all together were the victims and the circumstances. All the victims were between the ages of 16 and 22 and reasonably attractive. They were also all abducted from their houses, usually with someone else home at the time; nobody saw or heard anything … strange stuff.

Intrigued but enraged at the same time, he threw down the newspaper and left the hotel in favor of a ride around the city. This case hit him where it hurt and he didn't like it. God help that son of a bitch if Garrett were to come across him. He wouldn't leave enough to fit in a plastic bag.

For now, he needed to clear his mind and concentrate on the task at hand: performing at the Barbarosa and hopefully impressing any talent scouts that might be there. He took his guitar from his room and headed out.

He stopped in a park and sat down under a tree to practice. It had been nearly three years since he had written this song and it was only on rare occasions that he actually played it. Barrooms full of drunks were not the crowd that would appreciate something this melancholy. He had written it only a few months after he lost everyone he had ever cared about. With each note of the intro, he evoked a ghost that haunted his past. As he began to strum, he closed his eyes and relived every painful memory. He sang the old, familiar words reflecting his sorrow in the verses and belted out the secrets of his tortured soul in the chorus. The tune was a soft and dark at first but gave way to a furious, rising crescendo. At the fevered climax of the song, it suddenly dropped off to near nothingness and faded out.

Garrett sat for a moment in quiet reflection and opened his eyes. He realized he had drawn a small crowd. Upon his acknowledgement, they applauded. Some were even wiping tears from their eyes. Only later did Garrett even realize there were tears streaming down his face as well.

He stayed momentarily a played a few more songs for the audience he had unintentionally gathered and moved on.

After going back to the hotel and putting the guitar away, he walked back outside only to spot a familiar face walking down the road. The portly kid couldn't have been more than 20. His twisted spine was evident by his severe limp, not noticed the night before when he was sitting at the table with the rest of the Shatters. He noticed Garrett andwaved tohim.

"Hey, you're the guy I heard playing in the park earlier," the kid said, appearing very out of breath. I've been trying to catch up with you ever since you left. I got some friends who wanna meet you." He bent over, breathing hard. "Do you have a car? I don't think I can walk another step."

Garrett sighed, and then chuckled. "Well sort of. Who are your friends?"

"The rest of the Shatters … and what do you mean by sort of?"

It must have been a comical sight to have seen Garrett Rainbird riding around Pittsburgh with a fat kid struggling to give directions and hang on to the back of the bike at the same time. After a precarious 15 minute ride, they arrived at a nondescript warehouse the kid called 'home.'

"So, this is the place?" Garrett asked, sounding more than a little unsure.

"Yeah, this is it. Follow me," he said, slipping around a corner, out of sight.

Garrett knew good and well who curiosity killed, but he didn't care at the moment. He walked around the corner and through a large gap in the sheet metal wall.

The inside of the warehouse was done up like a low quality studio apartment. Several couches were strewn about haphazardly with crates serving as tables and a small crappy television in one corner. A few tattered concert posters hung on the walls. There were about 15 people lounging around. They perked up when Garrett came through the hole.

"This is the guy I was telling you about, Casper," the fat kid said as he waddled over and plopped down on a vacant couch. "He's a shifter."

Casper, a tall lanky twenty something who was seated in the middle of everyone else in a brown overstuffed chair slightly nicer than the rest of the furniture, nodded. "Good work, Jiggly."

"I can smell 'em a mile away."

Garrett tensed up, ready for whatever might happen next.

Casper turned his glance toward Garrett. "Whoa, whoa, whoa … easy now. We're friends," he said as he offered him a seat. His look turned to recognition. "Hey, you're the guy who was dancing with Lillian last night. Man, I'll bet that was a turn on."

The rest of the group let out a collective snicker.

Garrett grinned and sat back in a couch that was probably procured from a roadside collection point. "Yeah, I have to admit," he said, still not sure whether he should be relaxed or ready to fight for his life, "she definitely got to me."

Casper's smile didn't fade. "You know she's a vamp, right?"

Garrett sat up, looked down briefly, and sighed. "Ya know … when I was out there on the dance floor, in fact the whole night … I just didn't care."

Casper didn't miss a beat. "We understand … well sort of … but anyways, where are my manners? Let me introduce you to the group. We're Garou, as I guess you know what that is?"

Garrett nodded.

"Okay, yeah, we're Garou from the Bonegnawer tribe. The rest of the tribes kinda look down on us, but we don't care. We can fight as hard as any Get and drink more than your average Fianna."

Casper went down the line, introducing each member of his "gang." He pointed to a tall, very muscular blonde woman on the far couch. She lookedAmazonian."This is Press." She made a gesture in his general direction and smiled.

He pointed to the fat kid who had led Garrett to the hideout. "You've already met Jiggly." He grinned and waved. "Jiggly is a metis, which means both his parents were shifters. There's a law the Garou are supposed to follow and one of the laws is that we can't have kids together. When that happens, the kids always turned out messed up in some way or another for whatever reason. The other tribes want nothing to do with them, but we don't mind. They're still Garou, ya know? Just a little different is all."

He pointed to the next couch down, which held two people. He pointed first, to a skinny, sandy haired guy lounging on one end. Something about him just didn't seem right, like he didn't know what to do with himself. "This is Snifter. He's a lupus, and he's still getting used to being in his homid form. We've been trying to get him to spend more time looking human because he refuses to wear a collar."

Snifter perked up at the word collar. "I told you, I'm not gonna wear that thing. I'm nobody's house pet," he said without a hint of malice. He paused to scratch behind his ears, first raising his foot, then using his hand when he realized he couldn't reach the back of his head with his foot.

Casper gestured toward the other occupant of the couch. She was fairly short, but pretty, with red hair and blue eyes. She seemed to be a little better dressed than the rest of the group. She also seemed to be a little more educated than the rest of the group. "This is our tech girl, Blue Eyes," Casper said. She smiled and nodded.

Casper continued on through the rest of the group, 13 in all. "Now that you know us," he said, "why don't you tell us who you are."

Garrett spent the next hour talking, about his past, his adventures, and life on the road as an itinerant musician. They hung on his every word, especially the stories about Victor and about John and Potters Mill, when the action got heavy.

After awhile, Garrett realized the time. "Shit, I have to go or I'm going to be late," he said, getting up.

Snifter perked up. "You playin in the talent show tonight?" he asked as Garrett nodded. "I'll be there too. See ya there."

Casper shook his hand on the way out. "They have an invitation only guest list, so we'll meet up with you guys downstairs at the rave club," he said before turning around and heading back to his chair.

Garrett made it back to the hotel, showered, got dressed to the nines and made it to the Barbarosa Club with half an hour to spare. He was ushered to the third floor and escorted to a back stage holding area. As time went by, Garrett realized there weren't quite as many performers as he had originally expected. There were only 15 acts slated to perform. Snifter showed up a few minutes after Garrett and sought him out.

"Hey, Garrett," he whispered, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a small flask. "Want something to eat the butterflies?"

He accepted and took a pull off the flask. Goddamn, that was some cheap whiskey. It tasted terrible but it had a good kick.

A hat was passed around with numbers in it to decide the order of appearance. Garrett drew number 12, while Snifter drew number three. A few minutes later, an older man in a tuxedo stepped onto the stage and announced the beginning of the show. The first two acts were okay, but nothing to write home about. They received sparse applause from what appeared to be an audience of high social standing. Flashes popped sporadically from the few cameramen on the floor.

Snifter seemed to be a nervous wreck while the second act was playing. Garrett could see him visibly shaking.

"I can't do this," he said, trying to move away from the stage.

Garrett stood in his way. "No," he said, "you're going on that stage. It's going to be okay. You're going to do fine. Just relax."

Snifter didn't seem to be convinced. "Seriously man, I can't go out there in front of those people," he whined. "I just can't!"

Garrett forcefully turned him around and began walking him to the stage as the second act was wrapping up. "It's going to be okay," he said, attempting to reassure him. "Just fucking relax! Take a deep breath and get on the goddamn stage."

The emcee called his name and Snifter stumbled out onto the stage, prompted by a push from Garrett. He swallowed hard, took a quick look around, and stepped to the microphone. Garrett watched from the eaves.

He picked up the mic, cleared his throat, and began to sing. The crowd hushed at the sound of his voice. It rang clear and held perfect pitch. The song, however, was very strange. Garrett didn't know how to make heads or tails of it. He finished the song to more applause than the first two acts combined.

He stepped backstage and Garrett clapped him on the back. "See," he said, almost patronizing. "I told you it was going to be just fine."

Snifter smiled and pulled out his flask. He turned it up and drained it in one gulp. He looked at Garrett and winked. "Am I going to have to push you out on stage when your turn comes?"

Garrett laughed. "Not a chance."

Four more acts came and went, some good, others not so good. After the seventh performance, the emcee called for a 15 minute intermission. Garrett made his way out of the back stage area and went to the bar to order a drink. Thinking of the scotch he and Lillian had shared the evening before, he ordered a glass of Dewars on the rocks.

Speak of the devil and she appears. Lillian sauntered over to the bar where Garrett now stood and ordered a glass of wine. She looked absolutely flawless in her black evening gown. She wore a tasteful, but large diamond necklace, the value of which he didn't want to guess.

"You do understand that I expect nothing but the best from you, don't you, Garrett?" she asked, eyes briefly fluttering.

Garrett took another sip of his drink. Once again, his mentor's voice rang loud in his head, saying she was nothing but trouble and to stay away. Once again, the voice was ignored.

"I am the best," he said as a grin formed at one corner of his mouth. "I expect nothing less from myself."

With that reply, she nodded, still smiling, and excused herself. Garrett lingered for a few more minutes at the bar and headed backstage with his drink. He handed the drink off to Snifter, who gladly, no, ecstatically accepted it. It was gone in the blink of an eye.

The show started up again and the acts went back on. The competition was okay but Garrett knew he had this one in the bag.

Finally, it was his turn to go on. He picked up his old guitar, strapped it on and stepped to the stage. He took in the crowd for a moment and walked to the microphones, briefly adjusting one to pick up the sound of his guitar. He closed his eyes and began.

It was just as he had rehearsed. Every note, chord and word of the song reflected the inner workings of his anguish. As the crescendo began, the intensity of that reflection increased. He could feel energy swirling around him and he tried to project that out to the crowd as well. As he neared the climax of the song, he opened his eyes.

The audience had gone stone silent and still as the dead. People who had been up walking around before Garrett started playing now stood in place. The only motion on the floor was a lone photographer, who only moved long enough to take a picture. As he hit the last passionate chord, he saw Lillian on the far end of the room. Two small trails of blood ran down her face from the corners of her eyes. When their eyes met, she turned and left the room. It was a slightly disturbing sight for him, the first time he had ever seen a vampire cry. In an instant, it was ghastly and strangely beautiful at the same time. It almost disrupted his performance, but he finished strong and let the tune fade out.

The audience stayed quiet and still for a moment after he completed the song. A single cheer came from the bar followed by a thundering ovation from the rest of the room. Now that he could afford to pay for attention, he could see the majority of people present were or had been crying. Several faces in the room sported streaks of blood which were quickly and discreetly wiped away.

He bowed slightly and took in the adoration. As he turned and walked off the stage, he noticed Snifter waiting in the eaves backstage. His jaw couldn't possibly be hanging any lower.

"Oh my god, dude!" he exclaimed, running up to him, "That was incredible! You even made the vamps cry! Do you know how hard that is? How are you not rich and famous already? You're gonna win for sure!"

The last two acts came and went to sparse applause. After the last performer stepped down off the stage, the emcee came to the microphone, announcing that in five minutes, the judges would have their decision regarding the preliminary performances. The top eight would return the following night to perform one more time and compete for the grand prize: a record contract.

Garrett returned to the bar for another scotch. There was no sign of Lillian anywhere, but there were no shortage of people coming up and complimenting him on his performance. Even a few kindred, who surely had an idea as to his true nature, patted him on the back.

A few minutes later, all performers were called to the stage. They counted down the finalists based on the judges' scores. Snifter came out as number four, Garrett as number one.

After the announcements and another round of cheers from the audience, Garrett and Snifter made their way downstairs to the rave club where the rest of the Shatters would surely be waiting. After coming out of the elevator, he was stopped by Thornn before he could get to the stairs. Snifter didn't even notice. He bounded across the room and was down the stairs to the rave club before Thornn could open her mouth.

That's okay … she probably didn't have anything to say to him anyway.

"Lillian has sent for you," she said without any semblance of emotion. She didn't seem to be much nicer than the night before. "Come with me."

Garrett did as he was told. He followed Thornn back into the elevator and was ushered into a very posh, comfortable looking office. His guitar was sitting beside what appeared to be a very expensive leather couch. Thornn shut the door behind him and was gone.

For the moment, he was alone. He took in the surroundings briefly and sat down on the couch. Since his guitar was already sitting here, he figured he would be expected to play so he took it out and strummed a little. His heart had already started to beat a little faster than normal. What did she want? After last night, there could be no telling what might happen tonight. He took a deep breath and tried to relax.

A door adjacent to the one he'd been led in opened and Lillian entered. She was still in the black evening dress, but the king's ransom that had been around her neck was now gone. She sat down on the couch opposite Garrett, legs crossed.

"Well, Mr. Rainbird, that was certainly quite a performance," she said in a businesslike tone. This was getting confusing. What's with the formalities? Wasn't she calling him by his first name earlier? What gives?

"You actually managed to make me cry with that song of yours," she said, eyes dropping to the floor. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to do that to me?"

Garrett paused for a moment. "I have a little bit of an idea, yeah. The blood tears were a dead giveaway. But then again, I already knew about that. I just didn't care is all."

She cocked an eyebrow at his statement. "I'll admit, I know what you are as well and did care, having you watched to ascertain whether or not you were a threat. I had Thornn keep a close eye on you. My orders were to kill you immediately if you made a single uncouth move."

It was Garrett's turn to raise an eyebrow. He sat back and visibly relaxed. "I figured. I've played in enough kindred owned establishments to know that it's standard procedure."

Lillian laughed. "That, I am aware of. Your agent made it very clear to us when we spoke. Having you watched was only a preventative measure. I wouldn't even have come into the room with you yesterday evening if I thought you were going to try and kill me."

In an instant, she was all business. "I imagine you would like to know why I summoned you here." He nodded. "I called you into this room to find out if you could do that again … make me cry with your music. Understand; no one has ever done that to me before. Play your song. I want to hear it again."

Garrett picked up the guitar and started playing. For whatever reason, being put on the spot like this had him rattled. He didn't even get to the first chorus before she stopped him.

"What's wrong, Garrett?" she asked. "Do I intimidate you?"

He sat down the guitar and composed himself before answering. "Yes and no. I do feel a little nervous. I can't do something like that just on command. I have to really feel it first and then I am capable of making everyone else feel it too."

"Well then," she said as she reclined back onto the sofa. "Do what you need to do and play it again."

He focused for a moment, collecting his thoughts and his feelings. He was still nervous, but he had managed to put himself at ease for a moment. He picked his instrument back up and began. This time he was right on the money. He could feel that energy swirling around him again. He could feel his woe project itself into the room. He filled the room with it.

He had not paid attention to her reaction since he had started playing. Caught in the moment, he had almost forgotten she was in the room. When he finished his song, he opened his eyes and saw those same blood tears running down her cheeks. She wiped them away only to have them replaced almost immediately. It took a few seconds for her to stop the flow of her tears. Garrett sat and watched with curiosity.

Finally, she regained her composure. "Well then," she said as a smile returned to her lips. "We have to celebrate. You did come out on top tonight after all."

With that, she whisked him away to the downstairs rave club. Midnight had already come and gone; the dance floor, the tables and most of the people told its passing with bright fluorescent paint. They made their way to the bar and ordered drinks only this time, he wasn't paying for them. They stood at the bar only briefly, watching the people dance and revel in the night. The Shatters sat at a table across the dance floor.Snifter raised his glass and grinned.

Garrett felt a hand snake up his arm as she moved closer to him. "I have an idea," she nearly whispered in his ear. Her breath felt cool. He was surprised he had actually even heard her say it over the sounds of the club. "Let's go back upstairs where it's quiet. That way we don't have to be disturbed." With the last word of her statement, he felt her lips brush his ear.

At this, Garrett's heart attempted to jump in his throat. The vampire is coming on to me! The absolutely beautiful, filthy rich vampire is coming on to me! God only knows how old she is. Wait a minute, who cares how old she is? She's hot! The inner workings of Garrett's mind almost overloaded with conflicting interests. But she's a vampire. So? She's not human. Who cares? She's unnatural. But she's hot!

"Sure, let's go."

She led him back upstairs to the third floor into the office they had been in previously. She shut the door behind them and turned to face him. He started to speak but she placed a finger over his lips, silencing him. She traced her way from his mouth down his neck and chest. He caressed the side of her face and watched her eyes close as she reacted to it. Her skin felt cool but not cold. He moved in and kissed her. She reacted.

Unbridled passion flowed freely from her just as his sadness had flowed from him when he played his song. He let himself get caught up in it and reveled in it. The room suddenly felt very warm.

After a few moments, she pulled away from him. She started to back away but grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him along with her. She opened the door opposite the one they had entered. It contained, strangely enough, a bedroom.

She led him in and closed the door.


	13. Second Night

Second Night

Garrett awoke the next morning alone. This was probably a good thing, since a ray of sunlight was peeking through the curtain onto the bed. He got up and began gathering up his clothes. The memories of the night before were still very fresh in his mind, bombarding him with moral dilemma and satisfaction at the same time.

He got dressed and walked out. Until he got to the first floor, he didn't see a soul. He was momentarily startled by a 20 something woman who pointed to the door, grinning all the while. He stepped out into the sunlight and rode back to his hotel.

After a shower and a change of clothes, Garrett went down to the lobby for a quick bite to eat. Once again, he picked up a copy of the local paper. The headline wasn't surprising.

**Another girl abducted from home**

_Police unable to find leads, suspects_

Garrett didn't bother reading the article. It was the eighth disappearance in eight days. They had struck again at a random location and once again nobody saw or heard anything. He was going to have to try to get to the bottom of this, but he had no idea where to start.

For now, he needed to call his agent.

"Garrett, what can I do you for? What do you think about the talent show?" Tony asked.

"It's in the bag. I'll have a record deal by the end of the night. No sweat."

"Well, break a leg tonight and you and me will be rolling in the money in no time. No more hole-in-the-wall bars … it's all concert halls and stadiums for you, my friend."

The hours went by uneventfully and the sun started to sink toward the horizon. He hopped on his bike and headed to the club for the second round. This was going to be cake.

He arrived just as the line began to form. He parked and walked over to the end. The bouncer working the door saw him, talked into a microphone clipped to his shirt collar, and waved him in.

The club was a little more populated tonight, at least the first floor was. He hadn't seen this many people on the ground floor before. That could be because it was a Friday night.

He went to the elevator and punched in the code that had been provided to him the first day. When the got to the third floor, he found he was alone … well, almost alone. The sound of a violin solo crept into the atmosphere, sending out a beautiful current of sound. He stepped onto the main floor and looked toward the stage. Lillian stood there alone, with what appeared to be a Stradivarius in her hands. Her hands worked the instrument effortlessly as she played a concerto possibly by Bach … he couldn't be sure. He stood there motionless, mesmerized by the music.

She knew full well he was there, but didn't acknowledge him at first. She merely went on playing, as absorbed in the tune as Garrett was. When she finished, she slowly lowered the instrument and exhaled. She opened her eyes, looked at Garrett and smiled.

"You're not the only one who can captivate with music," she said jokingly. Garrett couldn't think clearly enough at the moment to make a reply. He only stood there with a funny looking smile on his face.

Garrett laughed for a moment. "I never said I was the only one."

She set the violin in a velvet lined case and made her way over to him. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly.

"Can I expect a repeat of last night tonight?" she asked, eyeing him longingly.

Apparently he made an impression or she was just a really good actress. It was too early to tell.

"Are you talking about my performance on stage or later on?" he replied with an eyebrow raised.

"Hmmm, let me think for a second," she bared her teeth in a mischievous grin, "… both."

At this point, Garrett had censored his voice of reason. It no longer spoke to him about the possible dangers that could be lurking around the corner by forming a personal relationship with a vampire. Unless danger was imminent, that is …

At that moment, the elevator doors opened and a man in a business suit walked through. Lillian looked over at him, appearing visibly annoyed. There was no doubt, he too was kindred, probably a Ventrue.

"What do you want, Dante?" she asked, releasing Garrett from her embrace.

"A moment of your time," he said. "We have some things to discuss."

She voiced her displeasure with a labored sigh and turned to Garrett. "Excuse us for a moment," she said as she walked to a table and sat down. Dante followed suit. Garrett walked over to the bar and waited. They talked in hushed voices Garrett could barely hear, but not make out. She did not appear to be very happy. After a few minutes, Dante stood and excused himself. He shot a quick glance over at Garrett, one of contempt, and walked back to the elevator.

Lillian got up from the table just as the first guests poured out of the elevator. She came over to Garrett; her demeanor had shifted to business.

"You understand that if I were seen with you in a position that wasn't strictly professional, it could be construed as favoritism and look very bad, right?" she asked, her tone nothing but serious. Garrett nodded. She smiled briefly, nodded back and walked over to meet and greet with the guests.

A moment later, the bartender arrived for his shift and Garrett ordered a drink. He walked backstage to see if anyone had put his guitar back … sure enough, they had. He pulled it out and checked the tuning. Everything sounded good, so he put it back up and waited.

Eventually, the remaining performers funneled into the backstage area. There was no sign of Snifter. Garrett didn't give it much thought until a man came around with a hat and told people to draw numbers. He wondered what was keeping him. Somewhere in the back of his mind a red flag popped up. He ignored it for the time being and drew his number. Damnit … anything but first. Oh well, he would just have to impress the judges that much more. If only he knew which people in the crowd actually were the judges.

The emcee announced his name and Garrett took the stage. He adjusted the microphones quickly, just as he had done the night before and began. He played an up-tempo song about life on the road and stuck it perfectly. He could tell the audience was getting into it. He tried to put as much energy and determination into it as he possibly could and finished out to a standing ovation. Nothing short of blackmail or bribery was going to stand between him and a record deal now.

He left the backstage area in favor of the bar and a pre-celebratory drink. He watched the other performers from atop a barstool and didn't see any real competition. He sipped his beer, lit a cigarette and patiently waited.

Finally, the last performance was over and the emcee called everyone to the stage. He introduced a representative from Vision Records before announcing the winner.

"And now ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for," he said, opening an envelope. Garrett prepared himself for an acceptance speech. "The winner is … Keith Stimburg!"

The audience applauded as the lucky winner stepped forward and accepted his award. Garrett was absolutely floored. How in Gaia's name did this hack manage to beat him out? He saw Lillian in the crowd, smiling and applauding. Her gaze met Garrett's and she winked at him. It didn't make him feel any better, but he congratulated the winner all the same and played the good sport.

Garrett made his way back to the bar and ordered another beer. He was devastated, confused, pissed off and curious at the same time. Why did she wink at him? Was she just flirting or was it something more? He didn't know and for the moment, didn't give a shit. His beer was his only concern for the moment. Wait a minute … Snifter never showed up. Where the hell was he? Now he was a little worried.

He finished his beer and went down to the rave club. As soon as he got there, he made his way to the bar and continued to drink. No sign of the Shatters down here either. What is going on, I wonder?

He spotted Thornn across the room, looking bored as usual. Garrett figured she didn't have fun unless she was disemboweling someone with her bare hands. He walked over to see if she had any idea where they were.

"Why would I know where they are?" she asked, suddenly defensive. "I'm not their babysitter."

That figures. He didn't expect much more out of her, but thought maybe she would know something. Oh well, so much for that, back to the bar.

An hour passed and he was starting to get a buzz. He wasn't paying attention when a hand touched his shoulder and caressed his neck. He turned around and saw Lillian, naturally.

"Would you like to get some fresh air?" she asked. "I heard you have a motorcycle and I want to take a ride."

Garrett looked at her and looked down at his beer. He laid some cash on the bar and led her outside. Thornn cast them an apathetic glance as they ascended the stairs.

It felt good to feel the wind in his face as they rode along the streets of Pittsburgh. It felt better to have a female body pressed tight against him, her arms wrapped firmly around his midsection.

She directed him up this street, down that street … a left turn here, a right turn there. They came to an intersection and stopped at a red light. She leaned forward and spoke directly in his ear.

"My house is four blocks up the road," she said. "If you can make it there in less than a minute, you can stay the night."

"And if I don't make it?"

"Then you can't stay the night."

The light turned green and he punched the gas. The tires squealed for half a second before finding traction and they were off like a bat out of hell. It was a good thing there were no cops patrolling this road, because he would have a hard time explaining why he was doing more than 70 miles per hour in a 35 mph zone.

This was going to be easy. Or was it? She tapped him on the shoulder as he zoomed past the second block. A bra landed in his lap and was quickly swept away in the wind. Now he was rattled. Her hands ran down his torso and up his legs. If he didn't slow down now, he was going to wreck. Damn, she got him.

They arrived at her house precisely one minute and eight seconds after she made the wager. He parked the bike and let it idle.

"I'll tell you what," she said as she got off the bike. "Two nights from now, at eight o'clock sharp, I want you to come to the third floor of the Barbarosa. I want you to pick out your ten best songs and play them for me. Call it a private concert."

Garrett was confused but excited. "What does that mean?"

"Exactly what I said. Don't be late," she said as she leaned down and kissed him.

"Well I guess I'll see you later then," he said, not showing his growing disappointment.

"What do you mean" she asked, trying to feign innocence. "When I said you couldn't stay the night, it didn't mean you couldn't come in … for a drink, perhaps?"

He began to get the feeling that he never had a chance to win that bet.

Three hours later, he came back out and got on his bike. He had forgotten all about the talent show and no longer cared about the shortcoming. Maybe it was for the best. This proposition she had laid out in front of him smelled like an audition for something, but he dared not hope for a recording contract. That would be too good to be true.

He rode around Pittsburgh with no particular destination in mind. He felt good and it was nice to just drive. He drove past the Barbarosa, which had just begun to close. He thought about stopping, and then he thought better of it. He went another mile down the road toward the hotel before someone jumped out in front of him, their arms waving wildly.

It was Snifter. He was bleeding from a laceration on his scalp. He looked scared … really scared.

"Garrett! Oh shit, Garrett … you have to help us!"


	14. A decimated pack, a pissed off Toreador

**Chapter 14: A decimated pack and a pissed off Toreador**

After getting him to the hotel, Garrett sat Snifter down on the couch and told him to explain what happened.

Snifter wouldn't calm down.

"We were just walking along, you know, getting ready to go to the club, and then these guys jumped us. They came out of nowhere. We didn't even see 'em until they were on top of us. They had flamethrowers and shit, chains and knives. We never had a chance; they just slaughtered us, man. Oh God, they slaughtered us! There was this one guy, I think he was their leader. He took out Casper in full crinos with one punch. He ripped his fucking heart out! I don't even know how I managed to get away. I just ran and ran until I found you."

He was shaking and rocking back and forth on the couch. Garrett realized he had a big problem on his hands.

"I came to you, because we could really use a hero right now."

Garrett took a deep breath and exhaled. "Okay Snifter, tell me what they looked like."

"They were all bikers … at least I think they were all bikers. There were a lot of motorcycles nearby and a lot of them were wearing leather jackets. They had a weird looking design on the back of them, kinda looked like a cross, but it was broken. Only the leader guy didn't have that. He was dressed like a businessman."

Garrett took this in and continued questioning. "Did anybody else survive?"

Snifter thought for a moment. "Jiggly wasn't with us. Wait a minute, Press wasn't either. We have to find them. They're probably looking for me. We have to find them before they do, Garrett!"

They went down to the warehouse the Shatters called home. They found Jiggly and Press there, waiting. Garrett let Snifter break the news to them. They didn't take it well. They packed up as much stuff as they could, clothes and what little food was around. They also packed up the scant weapons locker and then got the hell out of there. Garrett picked out a bamboo handled blade and a .50 cal. Desert Eagle. Press had managed to steal a compact car, so getting them all to the hotel was easier than it would have been otherwise.

After getting to the hotel, Garrett made her park the car down the road so the cops wouldn't come knocking on their door looking for a car thief. After getting inside, drawing the blinds and bolting the door, Garrett stood watch by the window for awhile, just to make sure they hadn't been followed. They didn't appear to have been.

Jiggly was the first to pipe up. "Garrett," he asked, sounding remarkably childlike, "are you going to help us?"

"Yeah," he replied, not knowing what else to say, "You got it."

It was late and sleeping arrangements were going to have to be made. Snifter had it easy enough. He shifted down to lupus and curled up in front of the door. Jiggly had already gotten comfy on the couch, so he plopped down there. Before Garrett could even open his mouth, Press jumped on the bed. He looked at her and began to get frustrated. She only looked back at him and patted the bed. "It's big enough for both of us you know," she said. "I won't bite … unless you piss me off."

* * *

Garrett received a rude awakening the next morning. As the sun began to lighten the room, he rolled over in his sleep and draped an arm around Press. She woke up and knocked him out of bed. He landed with a thud that woke everyone else in the room up. Snifter and Jiggly craned their necks to see what had happened. Garrett jumped up trying to figure out what just happened. Press just shook her head and got up. She started into a workout routine, doing pushups, sit-ups and a number of callisthenic exercises. Garrett followed suit as it was his habit to exercise in the morning too. Press' workout was a lot more intense than anything Garrett had been doing. He was sucking wind hard by the time she finished.

Next came the fight over the shower. Garrett wound up taking one third only because Snifter refused to shower. It turned out that he was afraid of water. That would have to be remedied.

After cleaning up and changing clothes, they all sat down around the couch.

"So what do we do now," Press asked.

Garrett hadn't the slightest clue. What was he supposed to say to these people? He was no leader. He didn't have any experience leading. But he was going to have to do something. Like it or not, he had made himself responsible for them and they saw him as their leader.

"Okay here's what we're going to do," he said, trying to think on his feet and sound authoritative at the same time. "Snifter, you scout around town and look for the bikers that attacked you. If you find them, make a note of where they are and get back here to let us know or call the room. Don't try to take them on by yourself."

He nodded, still in lupus form.

He looked at Press. "Your job is the same, but I want you guys to go separate ways so we can cover more ground more quickly. This is our base of operations for the moment. I will keep this room as long as I can, but I can't keep it forever. We have to try to move fast."

He looked at Jiggly. "Jiggly … you stay here and take calls from us."

He gave a thumbs-up and smiled.

Press looked at Garrett. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna do some digging."

He knew exactly where he wanted to begin; he just didn't know exactly where it was he was supposed to go. He wanted to track down Dante, the guy who had disturbed him and Lillian the night before. He seriously doubted that the kindred, surely a Ventrue, could have stood toe-to-toe with Casper, much less any of the others, and taken them out with that kind of ease.

Dante wasn't that hard to track down. Dante Forezi was the CEO of a large corporation based in Pittsburgh called Lyra Industries. The corporate headquarters was in the Greenwell building, a large office complex downtown sharing space with several subsidiaries, also more than likely owned by him. The only problem was that he would have to wait until sundown to meet with him.

He didn't know why, but instinct told him this was where to start.

After sundown, the Greenwell was an electric lit behemoth, looming a seemingly impossible height above him. He walked in and approached the secretary's desk like he owned the place. She looked up and didn't appear to care he was even standing there.

"May I help you?" she asked in a condescending tone.

"I need to speak with Mr. Forezi."

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked as if she was determined not to be cooperative.

"No I don't have an appointment," he said as he began to get pissed off. "Call him. I'm not leaving until I have an audience with him."

"One moment please," she said, appearing slightly intimidated.

That's right, he thought. You're smart to be intimidated. The hand cannon tucked in the back of his pants was the least of her fucking worries.

A few moments later, he was told Mr. Forezi _would_ see him. He got in the elevator and rode to the 50th floor. The door opened to a large open office area filled with very expensive furniture. A desk was situated at the opposite end of the room with a massive set of windows revealing what looked like the entire Pittsburgh skyline.

Dante sat behind the desk. Garrett stepped forward.

"That's quite far enough Mr. Rainbird," he said abruptly. "I can hear you quite well from here. What do you want?"

"I only want to know why you did it?" he asked coldly.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. What exactly is it that I did?"

"You killed them … or at least you had them killed. I can't prove it yet, but mark my words: I will. And when I do, you know I won't be the only one unhappy about it."

For just a second, it looked like his face twitched. He was nervous about something.

"I'm not going to stand for you coming in here making accusations," he said, suddenly growing hostile. "I want you to leave right now."

Satisfied, Garrett smiled, bowed and got back in the elevator.

"Oh and Mr. Rainbird," he said before the doors closed, "Back off. You don't know what you're dealing with."

He only hoped that his strategy would work. This would surely flush someone out of the woodwork because he was now more than likely marked for death. But they would have to be careful because Lillian would more than likely have some kind of protective decree for … Oh shit, Lillian!

He rode as fast as he could, but he knew he wasn't going to make it. He got to the Barbarosa Club at a quarter till nine, not exactly on time. As he walked into the club, he saw Thornn, who appeared to be posted to wait for him. When she saw him enter, she stepped forward.

"Lillian doesn't want to see you," she said coldly with the slightest hint of satisfaction. "She told you not to be late. I'm afraid you're not welcome on the third floor anymore."

"But Thornn, I can explain …"

"I don't care, Garrett … and neither does she right now. You screwed up big time."

This was all he needed right now. It was all he could do to contain his frustration.

"The Shatters are dead, Thornn."

This got her attention. Her eyes clouded for a second, then cleared. "All of them?"

"No. Snifter, Press and Jiggly are all that's left. I'm helping them figure out who did it and then we're going to kill them … all. They're in my hotel room right now, looking at me as their only hope."

With that statement, he turned and walked out. She was visibly stunned. She stopped him before he could get out the door.

"Garrett wait …"

He turned around. He was past formalities and he wasn't going to bother with them. "What?"

"If you find anything … give me a call." It was clear that he had gotten to her somehow. She was definitely concerned and seemed to be almost on the verge of tears. Wow … the ice bitch actually did have feelings.

He nodded and replied, his voice softening. "Just tell her I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to be late. It was just … I'm sorry."

He rode around town, looking for bikers with broken crosses on their jackets. He saw a few here and there, but none in large numbers. None appeared to be onto him, but most did give his bike more than a passing glance. Good, he thought. Now come to me.

He got back to the hotel and found everyone there, waiting. Jiggly spoke up as soon as Garrett walked through the door.

"Garrett, I'm hungry," he whined.

"Jiggly … just … order some pizzas or something."

His eyes lit up. "Got it! Seven pizzas coming up!"

Garrett thought about it for a second. "Wait a minute, put that phone down. I'm footing the bill for this aren't I?"

They nodded in unison, looking pitiful.

"Okay, four pizzas, but that's it."

"And some drinks?"

"Fine. Just make mine meat lovers."

Jiggly moved faster than Garrett had ever seen him move before. He dialed the phone with lightning speed and ordered four _large_ pizzas before Garrett could stop him. Thirty minutes later, he had a forty dollar bill to pay, plus tip.

As they sat down to eat, he started asking questions. "What did you find? Anything?"

Press and Jiggly shook their heads. Snifter, in his wolf form which looked more like a stray dog, perked up.

"What is it, Snifter?"

He started to move his foreleg and whine.

"I'm not doing this Lassie shit, Snifter. Shift to homid and tell me in plain English."

He whined again briefly and shifted up to homid. He paused for a moment before he answered. "I found a place where there were a bunch of those broken cross guys."

"Where? Could you find it again if you had to?"

"Oh yeah, it's not that far from home. It was a big warehouse and there were like a hundred of them."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah, actually. There was a van there. I memorized the license plate and said it to myself all the way back here so I would remember it. DTEIFNO."

"Good work Snifter."

He smiled, very happy with what he had accomplished.

After pizza, they sat around and watched television for a little while. Press turned and looked at Garrett.

"So what do we do now?" she asked.

"We can't take a force that large, so we can't storm into that warehouse, guns blazin. We have to find fringe elements and take them out. Hopefully we can get them a few at a time and wear down their numbers. I think I know who is behind this and after meeting with him today, he's sure to send some targets of opportunity our way. And we'll be ready when he does …"

* * *

The next morning, Garrett decided to call his agent and break the bad news to him. He didn't even bother to get out of bed. The hotel phone would suffice. The response on the other side was anything other than what he expected.

"It's okay, really …" Tony told him, "because you have a contract offer from Aria records."

His eyes got so wide, Snifter thought they were going to fall out. He bolted out of bed so quickly the recoil on the mattress nearly threw Press off the other side.

"Are you serious? Cause if you're just fucking with me, I swear I'll …"

"Garrett," Tony interjected, "I'm dead serious. Do you want it or not?"

"Fuck yeah I want it!"

"Okay, then listen to me closely. I want you to go to the nearest Post Office right now and get yourself a P.O Box. Relay that information back to me and I'll send the contract for you to sign along with some other things you'll need. I'm going to send you a cell phone, so we can get a hold of you when we need to. The only other thing is you need to find a photographer somewhere and get a small portfolio, for promotional purposes."

Garrett listened closely and wrote everything down on the complimentary notepad the hotel was kind enough to leave on his nightstand. When he got off the phone, he was in and out of the shower and dressed in about five minutes. Press had already gone back to bed. Jiggly never woke up. Snifter was the only one who stayed awake. He even shifted to homid to talk.

"Where ya goin?" he asked.

"To the Post Office," he replied, no sooner than Snifter could get the words out of his mouth.

"Can I come?"

"No time. Gotta go."

"Please?"

"No. I'll be right back."

Garrett was out the door before Snifter could keep talking. He got on his bike and sped out of the parking lot, completely forgetting he had absolutely no idea where the nearest post office was. Thankfully, he headed in the right direction. It was only four or five miles up the road.

After getting a post office box and calling Tony back with the number, he sat down and contemplated what had happened. Lillian had set this up. She had to. That's what she was winking at him for … that's why she wanted that "private concert." Well, at least he didn't totally screw everything up. He needed to get back to recon.

Press opted to go with him on the next scouting mission. He accepted without too much of a fight. They rode around for awhile, but didn't see much of anything. Press was getting bored, he could tell.

"I wonder where they all went?" she asked, looking around.

Garrett didn't have an answer. He just kept on riding.

"Hey Garrett," she asked again, this time sounding like she wanted something. "Can I drive your bike?"

He pulled over on the side of the road. He didn't get off just yet, turning around to look at her. "Have you ever ridden a motorcycle before?" he asked.

"Yeah, lots of times. I used to have one," she said, smiling and batting her eyes. She could be construed as pretty, if you were into big, tall, muscular woman who could probably pound you into the pavement without breaking a sweat.

He debated the risks for a moment. "How long has it been since you've been on a motorcycle by yourself?"

"Just a year or two … I'll be alright."

What was the harm? "Okay," he said, giving in. "Take us back to the hotel, but drive slow. We can recon the way back too."

She smiled wide as they traded places on the Harley. Then they were off and Garrett knew he had made a big mistake. They swerved out of the parking lot going way too fast. She wasn't shifting gears and she was having a hard time steering.

"Pull over right now!" he screamed at her over the sound of the engine.

She pulled over, but not the way he would have intended. She laid the bike down and skidded into some trash cans down an alleyway. When he stood up, he was ready to kill her. She turned and looked at him, saw the anger on his face and cringed back, not out of fear but shame. He saw this and for some reason, wasn't mad anymore.

He pulled the bike back upright, put down the kickstand and surveyed the damage. There wasn't anything wrong with the engine components, but the fuel tank and every bit of chrome on the right side was scratched all to hell. The saddle bag on that side wasn't going to be of much use anymore either. This was going to set him back a few bucks. But hey, he just scored a record deal. He could fully restore 50 of these things in no time.

He sat down on the bike, picked a piece of trash off the handle bar and started it back up. The engine fired with no problem. He looked at Press, who still looked very ashamed of herself and motioned for her to get on. She was hesitant at first, but obliged.

They made it back to the hotel and ate more pizza as the sun went down. Press left not long after, without saying much. Garrett figured she was just trying to get away from him for a little while. He was still mad about her lying to him though. There was no way she used to own a bike, much less operate one.

He left not much later, alone. He rode past the Barbarosa and debated whether or not to go in. He decided to give Thornn an update if nothing else.

He went to the velvet ropes and got in line. The bouncer didn't wave him in this time; he had to wait his turn just like everyone else. He had to pay a cover charge too.

He walked in and went down to the rave club. He didn't see her anywhere, so he walked up to the bar and ordered a drink. He asked if she could be paged, the bartender said yes. A few minutes later, she sat down beside him.

"What have you found out?" she asked. She didn't seem to be the same Thornn he had met there the first night. It seemed like there actually was a soul somewhere inside her.

"Not much yet," he replied. "We're still searching. All we know is it has something to do with a biker gang who wear broken crosses on their jackets. And I think Dante has a hand in it somewhere."

"If he does, he'll be seeing the sunrise while he's tied down to a rooftop," she interjected coldly. "What proof do you have?"

"None yet, but it'll turn up. I know it will."

She nodded and turned on her barstool. She stared out past the dance floor and appeared to zone out. She wasn't taking this well and he wondered how close she really was to the Shatters. He'd have to ask the ones left alive. He let her stew in her own thoughts for a bit before changing the subject.

"Is Lillian still pissed at me?"

She came out of her trance, looked at him and nodded. "She doesn't talk about it much. I don't claim to know her mind but I'd guess you hurt her pride more than anything. I will say she can't be that pissed, because she did offer you a contract, right?"

"You mean to tell me _she_ owns Aria records?"

"Among other things …"

He had one more beer and left the bar to think. The situation with Lillian was suddenly more complicated. If she was still offering him the contract, why wouldn't she see him? Why wouldn't she talk to him? He wasn't in love with her, but she did make good company. Yeah … good company.

He cruised down side streets slowly. A figure down an alley caught his eye. He appeared to be injured. Being the Good Samaritan that he was, Garrett pulled over to see if he needed any help. If the guy turned out to be a mugger, it would be him, not Garrett, who would have a very bad night.

He approached the man slowly and asked if he needed any help. The guy asked for a cigarette, but said he was okay. Garrett reached into his pocket and produced a pack and held a smoke out to him. He perked up and came over to get it.

The next second or two was a blur in Garrett's mind. All he knew was that for those couple of seconds, he felt really good. The man he had given the smoke to however was now on the complete other side of the alley and shaking. It become obvious to him what had happened. He brushed the side of his neck. His hand came back with a little blood on it.

He looked down the alleyway at the vampire on the other side. "Now what did you have to go and do that for?" he asked, ready to kick the shit out of him.

"I didn't know you were a shifter," he replied. "Otherwise I would have just killed you." He peered at Garrett through the darkness. "Wait," he said. "I know your face … do you play guitar?"

Garrett nodded.

"Aww shit," he said. "Please don't tell anyone about this. The Prince will have my head, literally. I didn't know it was you."

Garrett was now confused. "What are you talking about?"

"The Prince put out a decree that you were not to be harmed by any kindred," he replied. "Anyone who breaks that decree will be put to death immediately."

"Who is the Prince? Do I know him?"

"Her. Lillian Ross is the Prince of the city."

Holy shit. She was the Prince of the city? That probably means Thornn is the Sheriff. He suddenly realized he had friends in high places. He also realized that he stood up the Prince of the city two nights ago. Holy shit.

Garrett smiled. "What's my silence worth to you?"

The vampire appeared annoyed, but that expression soon left his face. "Name your price."

Garrett knew his price and didn't even have to think about it.

"Well, I have this bike that needs a little fixing up …"

After making a deal to get the bike fixed, he headed back to the hotel. That was well worth a little lost blood. Now if the record deal went sour, he wouldn't have to worry about how he was going to come up with the money to fix it himself.

He got back to the hotel around eleven. Press hadn't come back yet. She hadn't stayed out really late since she had been living under the same roof with him, so he started to worry a little. Snifter and Jiggly were there, so many they had some answers. After a little coaxing, they spilled the beans.

He had to see this.

The directions Jiggly had provided him proved to be on the mark. After arriving at the building, he walked around back and down some stairs. After getting a good look at his face and realizing who he was, the kindred guarding the door let him in. He could get used to this kind of treatment.

A makeshift arena had been set up in the basement of this old industrial building. Full contact fighting was the sport and betting was the game. A lot of money changed hands in here.

Garrett approached the open pit, where two female combatants were beating the ever loving shit out of one another. It appeared to be ladies' night in the ring at least. There were no gloves … there appeared to be no rules. One of them managed to land a hard kick to the other's face, sending blood and a few teeth flying. She hit the ground and didn't move. The lusty cheers of the crowd around him were reminiscent of the Roman Coliseum as the victor basked in adoration.

Garrett found somebody who appeared to be involved in running the matches just as the loser was dragged out a side door in the pit. He asked for Press and was led to a makeshift dressing room. Before he could knock on the door, it opened.

Press came out, dressed spartanly. She wasn't exactly scantily clad, but her choice of clothing was meant to be as functional as possible, with little attention paid to aesthetics. She looked at Garrett and shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm up next," she said. "I have to defend my ranking."

He gave her a serious look. "Your ranking? What rank are you, one?"

She laughed. "No, I'm number three."

He stood aside as the six foot plus, heavily muscular Amazon of a woman walked past and through the door leading to the pit. Her opponent was already there, a smaller but nonetheless deadly looking Asian woman. Garrett scrambled to get back up to the viewing and betting area above the action.

An announcer was introducing the fighters when Garrett made it up top. Out of curiosity, he asked the person standing next to him who numbers two and one were.

"If you think she's tough," the guy said, pointing at Press. "Then you ought to see Sasha and Delilah. They're numbers two and one."

"They're badder than her?"

The guy laughed. "Sasha is dangerous … but even she's nothing compared to Delilah. Her challengers usually don't leave this place breathing."

Garrett took this in as the fight commenced. It was brutal. He had never seen anything like it before. The fight lasted little more than a minute. Press was victorious after pounding her opponent into the floor repeatedly.

He ran down to the dressing rooms again as Press was coming out the door. He watched two men drag the loser out and lay her in a corner, attempting to revive her with smelling salts. She wouldn't be pretty for awhile, but she looked like she'd make it through.

As he was congratulating Press, a woman walked out of one of the dressing rooms. She had an average build with a short brown pony tail tied back. She wasn't overly tall or overly pretty. She looked … well … average. Press eyed her intently. She returned the gaze and smiled.

"You don't want to challenge me," she said without any expression or emotion.

"Oh yes I do," Press replied.

"Fine have it your way," she replied and looked at Garrett. She smiled a predator's smile who had just found prey. "I know who you are," she said. "You should hope we don't meet under different circumstances."

The two ladies stepped into the arena and the crowd roared. Thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of dollars went to the bookies as the people placed their bets. This was certainly an anticipated fight. Press had just finished a match, but appeared to be focused and ready to go another round. Sasha, her opponent, looked bored and way too relaxed.

A bell sounded the beginning of the match. Press advanced on her opponent and threw a punch. Sasha dodged it with ease. Press spun around and released a back fist. This time Sasha didn't just dodge. She came up under Press' arm and delivered an uppercut, landing directly under her chin. Press hit the ground, out cold. The fight only lasted eleven seconds.

As Garrett made it to the door, it opened. Sasha dragged Press out the door and delivered her unceremoniously at Garrett's feet.

"Get her out of here," she told him. "She's done tonight." He nodded and went about reviving her.

He knew one thing for certain: Sasha was definitely not someone he wanted to have to fight. He wondered about what she had meant by different circumstances. If Delilah was supposed to be worse, he didn't even want to meet her.

When Press woke up from her nap he took her back to the hotel. She looked very disappointed in herself. She didn't say a word the whole trip back; she only laid her head against his back and remained there until they reached the hotel. She went straight to bed and was unconscious when he came out of the bathroom from brushing his teeth.

He looked around the room for a moment. The three Bonegnawers appeared to be sleeping peacefully. They had made him their leader and it was up to him to lead them now. He had begun to feel responsible for them. He only hoped that he would be able to find a way to help them.


	15. The Return of Lightfoot

**The Return of Lightfoot**

Garrett awoke the next morning and once again joined Press in her morning workout. For someone who had gotten her bell rung pretty good the night before, she was looking none the worse for wear. Some days it really pays to be a shifter.

When everyone was awake and assembled, he put out the word to move out.

Everyone assembled on the warehouse Snifter had discovered previously. They discovered it to be abandoned.

Not wanting to leave any stone unturned, Garrett and the others searched the place for clues. They found little to go on at first.

A sharp howl came from across the cavernous room. It was Snifter. He had found something.

The humanoid shape was barely recognizable. It looked as if it had been horribly burned until the skin had disappeared, leaving the muscles and sinews raw and hardened. The only problem was there wasn't the faintest scent of burning. Snifter identified the scent of the body as Blue Eyes, one of their pack. Even though there were no obvious signs of life, she was still holding on and desperately trying to regenerate, somehow.

They brought her back to the hotel and placed her in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water. They didn't know how long it would take her to completely heal, so they left her there to recuperate.

Garrett walked outside to have a smoke when he noticed something amiss. There was a small folded piece of paper stuck just above one of the hinges in the door. He pulled it out and opened it.

The note was brief:

_You are being watched. Be careful. I will be in touch._

He peered around the parking lot, letting all his senses scan the immediate area for threats. There appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary.

After double checking his surroundings, Garrett took his bike to the shop directed to him by the kindred who was nice enough to fix his bike for him. They told him to come back the next day. He asked them if they were sure, not believing they could be finished overnight. They confirmed it would in fact be ready the next day.

After dropping off the bike in what had damn well better be capable hands, he took a cab to the post office, where he was expecting a special delivery.

He walked in and checked his P.O. Box. Inside was a large manila envelope. He pulled it out and opened it. He placed the cell phone in his pocket, unconcerned with it for the moment. His attention was completely on the contract in his hands. He read it front to back twice and still could not quite believe it. He felt as if his whole life had led to this moment. He signed it and immediately mailed it back to Tony.

He walked out into the sunlight with a smile on his face. Perhaps it was this alien sense of pure happiness that caused him not to notice the three men that were slowly descending on him.

As he walked through the parking lot, he did notice them. They shadowed him, uncertain about making a move in broad daylight. He started to lead them away, but they suddenly changed their minds. They charged in from three different directions.

Garrett halted and hunkered down. In the split second between realization and action, he knew that shifting in public was probably a bad idea. Then he noticed they had weapons. Shit.

The first man came at him from the front, swinging a chain. Garrett managed to duck the blow and move out of the way. Two more rushed in, one bearing a tire iron, the other holding a monkey wrench. They swung. Garrett propelled himself backwards, hoping to at least dodge one of them.

A tire iron smacked his shoulder with a loud thud. Pain shot down through his arm to his fingertips. The monkey wrench missed Garrett's head by a few inches, but smashed into the tire iron man's face, sending him to the ground like a limp dish rag.

Garrett hit the ground on his back and had only a moment to react. He did the best thing he could think of under the circumstances. He kicked his foot out in front of him, smashing it into the knee of the man wielding the monkey wrench. There was a wet smacking sound as he fell to the ground with a loud cry of pain.

The last man paused long enough for Garrett to get to his feet. He stepped forward as a small rock flew into the scene, pinging off the side of his head. This made both men turn to look.

A girl was standing a little more than 15 feet away, holding another rock in one hand and a cell phone in the other. She spoke.

"You had better leave him alone. I'm on the phone with the police right now and they're on their way!"

He looked back at Garrett and then spared her another glance. He dropped the chain and started running. The others followed suit more slowly.

Garrett took a moment to work the feeling back into his arm. It wasn't broken, so it should heal in a moment's notice. He walked over to his would be savior and cracked a smile.

"Did you really call the cops?" he asked.

She smiled. "No, not yet anyway. I figured they would run off if I threatened them with it though. I don't think you would have lasted very long against three guys."

Garrett scratched the back of his head. "I don't know … I think I could've taken them."

She rolled her eyes, but remained smiling. "I'm Ashley."

The next few minutes were spent conversing. He tried his best to convince her that he really was a musician with a newly acquired record contract, but didn't think she bought it. She explained that she was a college student at the local university and extended an invitation to meet with her friends that night for drinks. He accepted and headed back to the hotel.

He filled everyone in on the skirmish at the post office and the mysterious note on the door. No one had any ideas on what to do next. Their leads were nearly exhausted and short of running around trying to find random broken cross bikers, they were nearly out of ideas. One idea came to mind, however. Garrett picked up the phone.

He dialed the number and waited. It rang a few times before picking up a voice mail box. He left a message and a few minutes later, his phone rang. He answered.

"It's good to hear from you Garrett."

"You too, John," he replied. "Say … Are you incredibly busy right now?"

There was a brief pause on the line. "Where are you?"

"I'm still in Pittsburgh. I've run across a little problem that could lend favor to your expertise."

Another brief pause. "I'll be there tomorrow. Keep your phone on."

Satisfied, he hung up the phone. Maybe tomorrow they would actually get somewhere with this mystery. For now, all they could do was wait.

The hours pressed on and the day slowly started to die. Garrett went to the bathroom to freshen up for the evening's plans. Then he remembered the body in the bath tub.

He pulled the curtain back. She was still very unpleasant to look at, but he could tell she was regenerating, slowly but surely.

Snifter helped him move her long enough for everyone to get a shower. Snifter once again refused the opportunity. Garrett had a plan.

He approached Snifter, who by now had an idea of what was going on. First he tried to do it diplomatically.

"Snifter, you really ought to take a shower," he said as nicely as he could. Snifter didn't budge.

"I'm going out tonight. There will be girls there," he said with a hint of charm. "If you take a shower, you can go with me."

Jiggly laughed. Press was silent, save for a grin on her face. Snifter looked at the two of them and back at Garrett. He whimpered, but still refused to move. Garrett lunged forward.

Press, as if anticipating this, moved almost quicker than he did. They grabbed the flailing, pleading lupus and dragged him into the bathroom. Press turned on the water as Garrett forced him into the shower stall. Snifter screamed in protest, but couldn't struggle free. Quickly and effectively, they moved out of the bathroom, but kept him inside.

Garrett looked at Press as they held the door shut. She smiled, and then laughed. "I knew it would come to this eventually," she said.

On the other side of the door, Snifter wasbegging to be let out. It wasn't until then that Garrett fully appreciated Snifter's fear of water. He really was scared.

Garrett decided to try and reason with him again. "It's not going to hurt you, buddy," he said soothingly. "The warm water feels good. It will make you clean."

There was a long pause before a reply as heard on the other side. "Garrett?" the voice inquired. "How do I do it?"

After a seemingly retarded discussion on how to properly shower, Snifter gave in. Garrett and Press moved away from the door, no longer needing to guard it. After awhile, they heard the shower turn off. Then they heard a series of strange sounds. Not really wanting to know, Garrett approached the door anyway.

"Is everything all right in there?" he asked.

"How do you shake all the water off in this form?" Snifter asked.

After another retarded Q and A on how to dry off with a towel, Snifter finally came out of the bathroom, clean for probably the first time in his life. He got dressed and accompanied Garrett that night on the town.

They arrived at the small bar as per Ashley's instructions, about eight o'clock. They found her inside, with a group of friends. Introductions were made and they sat down and chatted. Ashley went on at great length about an audition coming up later that week and how she wanted the part but there were possibly more than 100 hopefuls auditioning. It struck a chord in Garrett's mind, but he knew not why.

Snifter, it appeared, was making himself quite popular with Ashley's friends. Garrett figured the kid had just realized how good it was to be clean.

An hour or so passed, and someone mentioned a fraternity party going on at the nearby campus. It didn't take long for all of them to wind up there, on the doorstep.

A guy answered the door and surveyed the scene before him for just a moment. Here were two guys with what appeared to be about 15 girls with them. Needless to say, he was impressed.

Garrett introduced himself. This lit up a flicker of recognition on the guy's face. "Hey, I think one of my brothers said something about seeing you play. Come on in."

They entered the house and felt themselves overtaken by the frenzied debauchery of more than 100 drunken, bawdy college students. Beers were very quickly distributed to the newcomers and the group quickly dispersed in the large common room.

Garrett relaxed, settling against a bare patch of wall with his beer. He felt like he needed a break from being serious and this was just what the doctor ordered.

He made it through a few beers before being approached by some of the frat brothers. One stepped forward.

"You're Garrett Rainbird, right?" he asked. "The same one who played the Barbarosa a few nights ago?"

Garrett smiled. "Yeah, that would be me. I'm celebrating my record deal."

At this, the fraternity brothers cheered and gave Garrett more beer. He was a bit drunk by the time someone asked him if he would play. He agreed and a stage was hastily cordoned off in the main room. They moved in some equipment and set it up.

When they were ready, the fraternity president, (or at least who Garrett figured was the president) took the microphone, killed the music and quieted the crowd.

"Here at Omega Lambda Delta, do we not offer you the best parties on campus?" he asked. At this, the crowd cheered a resounding yes.

"Do we not offer you the finest entertainment?" Once again, the crowd offered a cheer.

"Well then, if you would direct your attention to our lovely stage here, I want to introduce the newest artist signed by Aria records, Mr. Garrett Rainbird!"

Most of them had never heard his name before, but cheered anyway. Garrett took his place on the stage and immediately began playing some rowdy blues. The crowd went crazy. He played four songs before excusing himself from the stage.

Ashley found him in the crowd not long after he had mixed back into the crowd of people.

"Oh my god, I didn't actually believe you were a recording artist," she said in drunken adoration. "But I do now!"

He kept circulating through the crowd and circulating through beer as it seemed like endless hands were patting him on the back and endless faces were complimenting him on a good job. It wasn't until a familiar face came into view that he actually started paying attention. It was Snifter, who was obviously drunk. Despite his intoxication, however, there was seriousness to his demeanor. He pulled Garrett close, so no one else would hear him speak.

"Garrett, I've got a problem," he said. "I've got these girls and they really like me, I think. I just don't know what to do now."

Garrett thought for a moment then smiled in a brash manner. "Snifter, buddy, all the hard work is already done. All you have to do is be cool and everything else will take care of itself."

"What do you mean, be cool?"

"I mean be cool. Just relax, go with the flow so to speak."

"But what about later on tonight? I mean … you know."

"Just be cool."

Snifter thought this over and said be cool over and over to himself. Apparently satisfied, he melted back into the crowd.

The night dragged on and eventually the party started to die down. The crowd thinned considerably as people started looking for places to lay their heads. Garrett wandered upstairs, only to find Ashley again. She led him by the hand through a door at the end of the hallway. Then the lights went out.

Garrett awoke the next morning with a slight pounding in his head that soon went away. But unlike the last few occasions he found himself in this position, he was not alone. There on the other side of the bed lay Ashley, looking quite content to be asleep. He rummaged around the room for his clothes and put them on. She awoke to the sounds of him moving around, stretched briefly, looked at the clock and came alive. She was up and dressed before Garrett could find his shoes. She gave him a quick kiss as she bolted out the door, no doubt late for class or something.

Garrett was in no such hurry. He found his shoes, put them on and stuck his head out the door, looking left and right down the hall.

A sound to his left caught his attention. A door opened on the far side. A girl half walked, half staggered out the door and began to move slowly down the hall toward the stairs. Then another came out of the same room. And then another. They all looked like they had a rough night of it and were clearly going to need a few hours of recovery time before doing much of anything.

He walked down the hall to the open door and looked inside.

Snifter lay stretched out on a bed with the world's biggest smile on his face. One look and Garrett couldn't stop laughing. Snifter cocked his head to one side and regarded him.

"I shifted to glabro some time in the night. I don't think they noticed," he said with a smile of complete and utter joy.

A commotion at the stairs caught Garrett's attention. A robed figure ascended the stairs and approached him.

"If you and your friend here would join us downstairs when you are ready, we would like to thank you for your contributions to our party last night," he said politely and walked back down the stairs.

After Snifter was dressed, they came downstairs and were led into the basement, where a small group of robed figures awaited them. One came forward. Garrett recognized him as the one who had introduced him to the crowd the night before.

"This is a rare occurrence for Omega Lambda Delta and a rare opportunity for you," he said. "We normally do not do this, but after careful consideration and overwhelming support from the brothers, we have decided to offer you honorary membership in our brotherhood. From now on, every one in the Omega Lambda Delta brotherhood is your brother if you accept."

Garrett and Snifter looked at each other. They shrugged their shoulders simultaneously and accepted the proposal. There was great rejoicing and the promise of parties to come.

Eventually, they pried themselves away and returned to the hotel. Garrett dropped Snifter off and went to the bike shop that had promised him what seemed to be an outrageous task.

He walked into the garage and could hardly believe his eyes.

The bike was not only repaired to its former condition, it had been fully restored. It almost didn't look like the same bike. He was told that mechanics worked through the night to finish it on time. Garrett didn't want to know how much they'd been paid to do it.

He was about to pull out onto the road and test his newly restored machine when the phone rang. He answered.

"This is Rainbird."

"Garrett, I'm here. Where do you need me to be?'

"Stay where you are. I'll come to you."

After getting directions and getting the Bonegnawers in gear, they all went to rendezvous with John Lightfoot.


	16. The Plot Thickens

The Plot Thickens

Garrett and the others made their way to a small gas station a few miles down the road and met up with John Lightfoot. The Bonegnawers had already heard of Lightfoot through stories by Garrett and they were happy to have him on board.

It didn't take long at all for everyone's luck to change.

Garrett left to use the bathroom just as a nondescript gray van drove slowly past the gas station. It lingered for a moment before turning down a side road. Everyone was suspicious.

Not being one to back down to a challenge, John decided to determine the nature of the van.

It didn't take him too long to chase it down the street. It stopped at a stop sign and he gingerly made his way to the driver's side door, raking crinos claws all the way up the side.

The man in the driver's seat regarded him as he approached the window without a hint of fear or intimidation.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the man said from behind a pair of mirrored sunglasses.

John, naturally, did anything but comply. With a smile on his face, he walked down the length of the van again, raking claws against the paint a second time. The man in the driver's seat threw the van in park and got out. He appeared to be at least eight inches taller than John, who was more than six feet already.

Garrett came out of the bathroom just in time to see the confrontation. Shit. John was almost a block down the road, so the only way to step in quickly was to use the bike. So he hopped on and gunned the gas.

As he sped down the road, the back doors of the van flew open and two men jumped out, wielding handguns. Garrett reached down, pulled the Desert Eagle from his waistband and attempted to get a shot off as he sped toward two people who had just started shooting at him.

It probably wasn't the brightest thing he ever did.

He felt the recoil of the massive handgun and knew without the shadow of a doubt that he had made a grave mistake. He realized what he was shooting at just before his finger squeezed the trigger to the point of no return. He saw two welder's tanks in the back of the van, just before a .50 caliber bullet turned them into something scary.

Steering a motorcycle one-handed is a crap shoot at best. Combine it with the recoil of a hand cannon, two incoming bullets and hell's fireworks show, and it's a recipe for complete and utter disaster. He felt the rear tire lose traction as the whole bike started to tip over. Time became slow and crystalline, freezing everything around him with perfect clarity. But this awareness couldn't save him any more than it really saves anyone else. It's just the brain's sudden reaction when it realizes it is probably about to go into shock.

He briefly watched a piece of scrap metal go hurtling past his face just before his body instinctively tensed. His shape-shifter abilities thankfully put him into sokto form before things started getting painful. He hit the pavement, moving somewhere in the neighborhood of sixty miles-an-hour. The bike thankfully had crash bars installed, so letting go of it let the 700 pound piece of machinery go sliding away down the road at a slightly faster speed. Garrett could feel first his clothes, and then his skin grind away to nothing against the unforgiving asphalt. A split second later, one of his feet caught unwelcome traction and sent him flailing through the air like a ragdoll.

Hefelt one leg snap in four or five places as he hit the ground and rolled continuously.

More than 100 feet and fourty broken bones later, his broken body lay in a bloody heap at the feet of one amazingly unscathed John Lightfoot, who was the only one who could claim such luck. Everyone else even close to the van was either dead or severely incapacitated.

Garrett tried to move and found that he couldn't. He was able to make a brief grimace of pain before all was darkness.

---------

Garrett opened his eyes and found himself in the bathtub of his hotel room … or at least he hoped it was his hotel room. He tried to move and found everything to be functioning reasonably. Yeah, some days it definitely pays to be a shifter.

He pulled aside the shower curtain that separated the tub from the rest of the bathroom and found he was not alone. A girl with short red hair who didn't like much older than twenty, sat perched upon the sink with a laptop computer in her lap. She sat motionless, fingers hovering just over the keys, eyes locked on him. She smiled.

"I was wondering when you were going to finally wake up," she said as her fingers resumed typing. "It took me four and a half days … guess you heal a little faster than I do."

Garrett sat up. His mind was still feeling fuzzy from being unconscious for so long. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the girl again. She was pretty, in an unconventional way. It was her large, bright blue eyes that drew most of the attention. He knew those eyes.

She let herself be distracted from the computer again. "Everybody else is out hunting. They'll be back before long."

He stood up to get a better look at what she was doing. He peeked over her shoulder and saw three blinking lights on a map. It wasn't until then that he noticed the earpiece and microphone she wore.

He laughed in spite of himself. "When Casper told me you were their tech girl, he wasn't kidding." Then he grew serious. "So what exactly happened to you?"

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and spoke. "I was taken prisoner and tortured for amusement. They left me alive, just barely because they didn't think there was anyone left to find me."

"Who were they?"

She shuddered slightly. "There were the broken cross guys of course," she said as her face darkened, "and one bad motherfucking Tzimisce vampire. There is one tidbit of information I was able to put together that you might find interesting though."

He raised an eyebrow. "And what might that be?"

"The people who destroyed my pack are also responsible for the rash of kidnappings across the city."

He felt his rage build within him at the mention of the kidnappings. He no longer felt tired, he no longer felt injured. He felt anger and that was all.

"Do you have communication with the rest of our people?" he asked. She nodded.

"Call them back here."

The rest of the crew arrived shortly thereafter. They filled in Garrett on the past three days' events. They had gotten two more anonymous messages at the door and the information had netted them a few broken crosses. They were no longer among the living. Other than that, they weren't very far from where they had started.

It was almost midnight. What little he did know about the disappearances was that they all occurred in the middle of the night. He consolidated everyone into one group minus Blue Eyes and they moved out into residential neighborhoods, searching, waiting.

They were almost ready to pack it in and go back to the hotel when a non-descript gray van slowly rolled down the street. They watched as it came to a stop on the street and parked. Three men got out of the vehicle. Two stayed by the vehicle while one approached the house. They watched and waited.

The man entered the home as if the door was unlocked and entered the house. Minutes later, he reappeared, carrying what looked like a rolled up carpet.

Garrett gave the signal to move.

The car emptied as the unlikely pack of shifters descended upon the van.

John was the first to make it to the group. The man carrying the carpet roll dropped it as the crinos puma attacked him. The man ducked John's blow without much effort. Roaring, John took another swipe. This time, the man dodged the attack and moved in close.

"You talk too much," he said as he grabbed John by the muzzle and in one grotesque action, moved it over to the side of his face. John leapt backwards, clutching and clawing at his face and throat, unable to breathe. The Tzimisce's vicissitude had closed off John's windpipe when he contorted his face.

Garrett moved in as John flew back, hitting the vampire and knocking him backwards. Snifter and Jiggly easily tore apart the two henchmen by the van and moved up beside Garrett.

The vampire looked at the four shifters in front of him and backed up a few steps. He smiled at them, waved and melted into the ground. Garrett shifted down and checked on John, who had given himself a tracheotomy in order to breathe. The only problem was that it kept healing, so he had to repeat the job several times. His muzzle had slowly started to drift over to the right part of his face, but it still looked quite bizarre.

Garrett unrolled the carpet. An unconscious teenage girl rolled out onto the ground, to no one's surprise.

They were about to return her to the house when a sound from behind them caught their attention. They turned around to see the Tzimisce by the van. He was standing beside the gas tank, which had a rag hanging from it.

"You're actions here tonight are of little consequence," he said. "I would suggest that you mind your own business."

He produced a Zippo lighter and lit the rag aflame before disappearing into the earth again. They had little time to react before the van exploded in a huge ball of fire. No one was seriously injured, but sirens could be heard in the distance closing in fast.

They ran.


	17. The Safe House Debacle

The Safe House Debacle

The next morning, Garrett and his crew of misfits got a break. He walked outside and found another of the anonymous notes. Like the others, it was short and to the point.

_**317 North View Drive**_

_**You might learn something**_

He didn't bother looking around to see who planted the note. No one had been seen planting one before and he didn't figure today would be any different.

They waited until nightfall to move out.

The house was in a rundown section of town on a nearly deserted street. They scoped it out briefly and parked down the street. They split up to assault the house from all directions. Jiggly and Press would hit the front door, Garrett would hit the back and John and Snifter would make their way in through a second story window.

When everyone was in position, they attacked. Garrett heard loud commotion from the front of the house and shifted to crinos form. Bamboo sword in hand, he kicked the back door off its hinges and came face to face with three men. They looked scared, but willing to fight. That was good enough.

He brought the blade down in an arc with wicked force, cutting one man in half before burying the blade halfway into the second. The blade made a wet, sickening sound as he ripped it free.

The third man had a shotgun in his trembling hands. He raised it to fire as Garrett struck the barrel with his free hand in an attempt to divert the shot. Buckshot peppered the left side of his body as the gun went off, and the man was knocked to the floor by the force of the deflecting blow. He had time to let out a piercing scream before he was ripped apart with tooth and claw.

Garrett advanced into the kitchen and looked down the hall leading into the front room. He could see Jiggly in crinos form fighting. He heard sounds of gunfire upstairs and briefly looked up. John and Snifter must have met with resistance.

His glance fell to the front room and he saw Jiggly again. He had stopped moving and was swaying slowly from side to side. A vampire advanced on him and punched him in the chest. His hand went through the werewolf's ribcage with a spray of blood. He pulled back and ripped the heart from his chest. Jiggly collapsed to the floor and didn't move.

He heard a loud roar as Press saw the metis fall. The kindred ran out the front door, his exit blocked by three or more bikers who advanced on Press. Garrett had an idea. He ran out the back door to go around the house.

He made it around the corner and collided with the vampire, who was coming around to the back door. They stopped and stood facing each other. Garrett started to make a move when he was caught by the kindred's eyes. He suddenly felt all his anger drain away as he involuntarily shifted back to homid. The vampire grinned. Garrett hesitated a moment before he drew the Desert Eagle from its holster and grinned back. What was a grin was now wide-eyed surprise. He fired.

The shot was loud and deafening but something was amiss. The vamp flinched, but had not been touched. He inspected himself, finding no wounds.

He looked at Garrett. "What the fuck? I'm three feet in front of you, how in the hell could you miss?" he said as the stepped forward to attack.

In a twist of irony, the kindred stepped forward, only to slip in wet grass and fall flat on his back. Garrett shot again, hitting him in the chest.

The vampire moved almost to fast for Garrett to follow. He got to his feet and knocked Garrett backwards, sending him through a picket fence. He landed with a loud crash.

As the vamp launched himself into the air to deliver a killing blow, inspiration suddenly flashed through Garrett's mind. He managed to grab a piece of the broken fence as his assailant made his descent. He thrust the splintered post forward as hard as he could, ramming it through the vampire's chest. He went limp and fell to the ground, paralyzed. Garrett smiled and picked up the bamboo sword.

"Now this might hurt a bit," he said as he commenced chopping. He made it a point not to be fatal on the first five or six blows before decapitating the vampire.

He ran back into the house. John and Snifter had made it downstairs to Press' position. All three of them had frenzied. The last two broken crosses, realizing they had slim chances of survival, bolted out the front door as fast as they could. The three shifters followed. Garrett ran to the front porch to watch.

The two men ran screaming down the street, pursued closely. One man pulled out a pistol and shot the other in the leg as he ran. The wounded man fell and was immediately pounced upon by three frenzied shifters. The other man made it as far as the nearest intersection, where he was promptly hit by a speeding car.

Garrett went back into the house to investigate. A side room on the bottom floor revealed an unconscious young woman on a bed in a compromising position. All attempts to rouse her were unsuccessful. There was a bag full of hypodermic needles next to the bed that no one gave much mind to.

They loaded the girl into the vehicle before setting fire to the house and moving out.

They once again had someone unconscious in their bathtub.


End file.
